


Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil

by Smooty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, M/M, Mpreg, OC's galor, Other, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know, kind of, parenting, they can choose to present however so idk, using your snake form to avoid confrontation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooty/pseuds/Smooty
Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know.Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza --something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.





	1. Chapter 1

Ten years. A cottage. The South Downs. Innumerable soft mornings in bed and long, exciting nights. Wine under their own apple tree, carefully cultivated to provide optimal shade during summer afternoons. Ten years of the rest of their lives. For Aziraphale and Crowley the time after the End that Wasn’t was nothing short of blissful perfection. 

They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. 

Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate  _ pizza _ \--something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even  _ reading. _ Nothing scratched the itch for either of them. 

It wasn’t until they visited Tadfield, for Anathema’s baby shower, that it occurred to either of them. They’d been to the others, of course, both ethereal entities were prominently featured in the other two Device-Pulcifer children. Little Charlotte and Annabella looked forward to seeing their uncles for monthly gatherings. And the third child, yet to be named, was likely to feel the same about the two.

“It’s only 2 more months now,” Anathema said, lounging in a comfortable chair in her and Newt’s back garden. She was surrounded by friends and family, including the Them, Shadwell and Madame Tracy, and Crowley. Aziraphale was over by the pot-luck table, making him and the demon plates of food. Crowley nodded along to the conversation, not participating much himself. 

“You must be ready for it to be over,” Madame Tracy said sympathetically, filling up the witch’s glass with more. Anathema nodded enthusiastically--after 2 kids you stop pretending to love every moment of pregnancy. 

“Definitely. They’ve been kicking me in the spine for ages!”

“Have you tried telling them off?” Crowley asked casually, sipping his own drink (lemonade spiked with a little something from his flask. “Can never start too early with that kind of thing you know.”

Anathema looked surprised, though not significantly, which was in opposition to Newt's shocked expression. Madame Tracy rolled her eyes and tutted disapprovingly. 

“Weren’t you a Nanny?” Pepper asked, eyeing Crowley suspiciously. “Good Nannies don’t go around shouting at babies.”

“No one said anything about shouting,” Crowley drawled, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s all about b _ alance _ . Set some boundaries, let them know they can’t get away with anything  _ too _ mischievous.”

“I thought mischief was your thing?” Adam asked. Crowley made a kind of a wiggle motion with his palm and wrinkled his nose. 

“Trust me, kid. There’s mischief and then there’s a 4-year-old who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘no’.” 

“Oh are we talking about our mutual ward?” Aziraphale chimed in cheerfully, setting down the plates he’d made up. Crowley murmured his thanks and reached for a strawberry. “We did our best but he turned out quite beastly in the end.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’re making it sound like he’s a murderer. He turned OK, better than his father at least.”

“You do have a point there.” The rest of the party-goers at the table all had variously dubious looks on their faces as if they were all thinking ‘who allowed these two to raise a  _ child? _ ’. 

“Have you two raised many children together then?” Madame Tracy asked pleasantly. Crowley and Aziraphale both shook their heads a little sadly. “Oh whyever not? You both seem to love kids.”

“Well, it isn’t the done thing you know. An angel and a demon?” Aziraphale answered glumly. Next to him, Crowley shifted in his seat. “Warlock was the exception because both Heaven and Hell thought he was the antichrist.”

“But you don’t work for them anymore!” Adam pointed out, tucking his hands under his thighs and rocking excitedly. “You could do whatever you want!”

Something like dawning realization began to grow on both men’s faces. They could, in fact, do whatever they pleased without worrying about the repercussions from their former head offices. Though the idea of a child might be pushing it. 

“You know I never really thought about it like that, thank you, dear boy,” Aziraphale, always better with words in the heat of the moment, said. Crowley sat wordlessly, gaping like a fish out of water. From the far side of the table, Anathema whispered something in Newt’s ear and they both chuckled. 

“Yes, well,” Crowley blustered, suddenly standing. “More lemonade?” No one answered but he stalked off anyway. No one mentioned the fact that he was going to the exact opposite way of the refreshment table either. 

Aziraphale watched him go with a bemused expression, though he didn’t seem worried. Instead, he turned back to Anathema and began asking her about baby names. The Them quickly got bored with the baby talk and wandered towards the empty bit at the back of the yard to play football. Madame Tracy and Shadwell were off in their own little world, looking at each other with disgustingly moony eyes. Crowley nearly gagged just from being in proximity to such mushy behaviour. As it was he was currently taking refuge back behind the hedgerow, growling at Newt’s freshly planted petunias. 

After they were sufficiently chastized and looking marvellous, Crowley decided he had calmed down enough to actually brave the drinks table. There was an entire pitcher of lemonade left, still damp with condensation from the refrigerator, and it was practically calling to him. He made himself a cup and stealthily spiked it. He was just about to take a sip when he felt small hands tugging at the edge of his jacket. 

“Uncle Crowley,” a tiny voice said, “can I have a sip?”

Crowley looked down, already knowing exactly what he would see. Little Lottie, with her dark brown eyes and mane of untameable brown hair stared back at him, then eyed his drink. Behind her, Bella peered up at him, always the shy one. 

“Eh, not this one. I’ll make you both your own special ones, how does that sound?” With a quick miracle, he procured two plastic cups with curly straws, dangling them in front of the girls. Bella's eyes lit up but Lottie held strong. 

“No ice cubes!” she declared, stamping her foot. Crowley hid his proud smile behind a small cough. 

“No, no ice cubes. Just pure, sugar water for you and your sister,” he said, filling both glasses up and handing them over, but not before using a demonic miracle to replace the sugar with a healthier alternative. He crouched down to their level to whisper, “Have you two been  _ behaving _ for your mum and dad?”

Bella nodded, too busy drinking and splashing lemonade all over herself. Lottie lifted her chin proudly. 

“Sometimes! Jus’ like you and Uncle Aziraphale said!” She’s only recently gotten the hand of the angel’s fully name, and took every opportunity to show off. Annabella was still getting the hang of it. 

“Uncle Azi says to always be nice to the other girls at school, even if they say mean things!” she exclaimed loudly, a sticky smile lighting up her face. At least her hair was short enough that it was mostly saved. Crowley didn’t want Anathema to  _ truly _ despise him. 

“And?”

“And you said to put gum in their hair when the teacher isn’t looking!”

“Good girl. Now go sit at the table with your lemonade. And don’t let your mom see you with it!” He added that last bit just to see the devious look on Lottie’s face as she and her sister scampered off. Somebody, he loved those kids, even if they were half Newton. He liked most children, actually, though those two little girls had definitely run off with his cold, dead heart. 

“There you are, Crowley!” Crowley tried to hide his slight jump of surprise with a cough. Even though he knew that Azirapahel knew that neither of them had ever needed to cough in the entire history of the world. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“S’not like I went far angel,” Crowley replied, straightening his knees and then his spine with far too much crackling. “What’d you want?”

Aziraphale was immediately fussing with the demon’s collar and suit jacket, making sure it sat right. “Well, I thought as it’s getting rather late and we have a little bit of a drive ahead of us it might be time for us to toddle.”

“Toddle?” Crowley asked, wrinkling his nose with distaste. 

“If you prefer I could say we should get a wiggle o--” Immediately Crowley was stalking past the angel and back to the rest of the party-goers, effectively cutting him off. 

“No I do not prefer ‘wiggle on’! Somebodies' sake where do you keep getting these awful sayings from?” He knew the angel was following behind him with a silly grin on his face. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about dear. Are you getting into one of your moods again?” Damn him, the bastard knew exactly how to rile Crowley up. 

“ _ I don’t know what you’re talking about dear, _ ” Crowley mocked, hunching his shoulders even more. “Let’s just get the goodbyes over with so we can go.”

It took far too long, for Crowley’s tastes, to actually leave. He let Azirapahel do most of the talking and hugging, though he spared a moment to cuddle Lottie and Bella when they started to beg. Their tiny little arms wrapped around his shoulders as he hoisted them up, slinging them side to side just to hear their delighted shrieks. The first few times he’d done this Newt and Anathema had  _ not _ been pleased, but Aziraphale had reminded them they were both ethereal beings with the ability to change reality, and the parents had decided to allow it after that. 

“Goodbye, little ones,” Aziraphale said, giving each of the girls a hug. Crowley knew first-hand how good Aziraphale’s hugs were and made a mental note to get a few of his own when they got home. 

“Not little anymore Uncle Aziraphale!” Lottie shouted, taking advantage of her ‘outside voice’. Annabella giggled at the nickname, more than happy to be the angel’s little girl. 

“No, no, I suppose not Charlotte. You’re nearly all grown up aren’t you?” he answered with an indulgent smile. The little girl wiggled with delight, and also with the need to be let go so she could go off and get into some sort of mischief. “Go on, have a good day you two.”

Final goodbyes were said and then they were in the Bently, trundling down the road. Crowley had agreed to drive at a more decent pace within the towns and cities sometime after Lottie had been born. The demon claimed he enjoyed driving slowly to annoy the other drivers, but Aziraphale had a suspicion that it had to do with having mortal attachments and realizing the dangers little children could get into near roadways. Outside on the country roads they took to get back to the South Downs he made up for it though, gunning down them with double the enthusiasm. Aziraphale considered this enough of a compromise. 

“Lovely party,” the angel remarked loudly over the roar of the Bently’s engine. Crowley nodded but didn’t take his eyes off the road. He was hoping to beat her personal speed record from Tadfield to the cottage. “The girls are growing up so fast!”

Another noncommittal noise as Crowley overtook a car, getting dangerously close to the side door to hiss a little bit. The other driver blanched and decided to pull over at the next rest stop for a bracing cup of coffee. 

“You’re quite good with them!” Aziraphale continued on, undeterred by Crowley’s distraction. “If fact, I’d say you have a soft spot for children, my dear. First warlock, then Adam, now the girls.”

That did get Crowley’s attention, though he made sure not to show it. Really he’d always loved children. There had been the kids he snuck onto the arc, just a few, those he could grab and hide from the floodwaters. And others throughout the years, war orphans and kids alone in the world for whatever horrible reason. He gave food to beggars and donates some of his exorbitant--and useless--wealth to orphanages and programs to help children (all spun in some nonsensical way to please Hell, of course). He’d  _ adored _ being Warlock’s nanny (which is why, even though he is a demon, he couldn’t be the one to pull the trigger on either him or Adam). But caring about kids wasn't  _ cool _ , wasn’t demon-like, so he’d kept it quiet. Trust Aziraphale to see right through that. 

“So?” Keep it short, simple. Let Aziraphale do the talking, he obviously had a point to make, rambling on as he was doing. 

“So… I was thinking…”

“Spit it out angel!” Crowley snapped, taking a  _ very _ sharp left turn into oncoming traffic. Aziraphale knew it wasn’t meant in a nasty way though, he had over six millennia of experience speaking ‘irritable demon’. 

“I’ve been thinking, it would be nice to have that,” Aziraphale stuttered out, staring straight ahead at the road. 

“Have what?”

“Oh, you know what I mean! Why are you being so difficult, Crowley?”

“I’m not! I don’t understand half the babble that comes out of your mouth angel and you expect me to when I’m dri--”

“Doyouwanttohavechildren?” Aziraphale asked all in one breath, refusing to look over at Crowley. Crowley jerked violently, nearly driving them into the ditch. A quick miracle prevented their untimely discorporations and the Bently rolled to a stop on the side of the road. 

“ _ What?” _ he asked incredulously jaw hanging open. 

“Children!” Aziraphale squeaked, his hands flying up and fidgeting with his collar and bowtie. “I-I’ve become very fond of our Goddaughters and I was thinking--”

“And how  _ exactly--” _ Crowley’s tone was venomous, though he didn’t know exactly why, “do you suggest we procure these  _ children? _ Forge up some adoption papers for some human baby?”

“Oh Heavens no!” Aziraphale tittered. “Humans, well they have such a short life span. Though I wouldn’t be opposed, if that’s what you wanted to do. I was thinking more along the lines of the old fashioned way?”

“Know many women looking to have little angel babies or hellspawn then Aziraphale?” Crowley mocked. Honestly, he was being a bit of a prick and he knew it. This wasn’t the type of thing you just  _ brought up _ on a casual Sunday drive home from a casual social arrangement! It was the type of thing you thing to be spoken about after a few good rounds of fucking, in that warm safe afterglow surrounded by your lover. It was supposed to be a big thing right? Humans made it a big thing. And what about the fact that apparently Aziraphale wanted to… with some human woman? Or that Crowley would have to… eugh.

“Of course not! There was quite enough of that with the Nephilim. No, I was hoping, one of us could do  _ it. _ ” 

Crowley was nearly bowled over with shock. As it was his white-knuckle grip was nearly bending the steering wheel. For some reason his mind was supplying images of little blond-haired, pudgy baby angels scampering around their cottage, chased by redheaded little devils. The tiny pitter-patter of their feet, then laughter like bells. The look on one of the children from the Arc’s face when he’d had to explain what happened to their parents. A tiny grave outside a workhouse, mourned by only him and no one else. 

“Absolutely not.” The world wasn’t a place for children, Crowley knew that for certain. Nevermind the idea of having one of his own to take care of to be responsible for. It’d been different with the others, temporary and always ‘part of the job’. Having one would be different. Scary.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice was tiny and feather-light in the quiet of the idling Bently. It was the same tone of voice he made when all the crepes were gone, but significantly sadder. It made Crowley feel  _ terrible _ , like he really was worthy of his Fall. 

“What brought this on, angel?” he asked, trying to find a way out that didn’t break Aziraphale’s heart more. “You’ve never even  _ mentioned _ kids before this. Didn’t think you really liked them, Warlock and the girls aside.”

“No, no, I do like them. Not near the books, mind, but they’re nice enough. They have such good imaginations.” Aziraphale spoke like someone trying very, very hard to give off the impression they were fine. He’d moved on to crumpling and straightening his bowtie repeatedly. 

“Nice enough you decided to blindside me with this on the drive home?” Should he turn the car off for this? Another glance at his angel, so clearly distressed, then back at his own shaking hand on the keys convinced him. The silence was even more oppressive without the Bently’s purr. 

Aziraphale worried his hands harder and Crowley made a mental note to take the angel out to get his weekly manicure a little earlier. “I didn’t think you’d react like  _ this _ .”

“And how, exactly, did you think I’d act? This world is fucked up Aziraphale, not to mention what Heaven and Hell would do if we made a bunch of half and half sprogs?” How was Aziraphale not seeing how impossible what he was asking was? 

Finally Aziraphale looked over at him. His grey-blue eyes were soft and sad. It made Crowley want to look away, and he briefly did behind his glasses. 

“I--I hadn’t thought about what our previous sides might think, to be perfectly honest,” he admitted, sounding a little embarrassed. “I got caught up in--well, it seems I haven’t thought this through. Forget I said anything, my dear.”

There was the out Crowley had been looking for, a good reason to start the Bently back up and continue on their way. Maybe he could spend the rest of the afternoon in his garden, ripping weeds out of the ground with great fervour. Not that his garden had weeds, but the roses had been slacking so they’d make do. 

But he could just leave things as they were now, with Aziraphale looking so crushed. “What  _ were _ you thinking then? Why now?”

A light blush spread over the angel’s cheeks as he glanced away again. “Oh well, I was only talking to Anathema about the girls, and the new little one coming soon and it sounds so… nice. She and Newt have been very happy and I’ve loved watching the girls get older and learn new things. Then I thought of us doing the same with our own little family and, well I guess I got a bit carried away.”

Carried away was right. The happiness that the Device-Pulcifer family had was not for them, couldn’t be for them. It wouldn't be safe or fair to bring children made of both of them into this world. Not when Heaven and Hell would just want them destroyed. 

“We can’t, angel,” Crowley said quietly, letting his hands fall into his lap. “Even if we wanted to you know our ex-sides wouldn’t stand for it. They’ve been leaving us alone but you damn-well know they’d come back if there were kids.”

“So, you do want them? W-with me I mean?” Trust Aziraphale to ignore all the practical bit and cling to that. Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Angel…” he said warningly, a bit of a growl to his voice. Aziraphale kept going. 

“Crowley please, I don’t understand why you’re so against this! You love Charlotte and Annabella, I’ve seen it!”

“Of course I love them!” Crowley said, exasperated. “But  _ we _ can’t have that. Even if we want to, we can’t. It isn’t safe.”

Another ringing silence where Crowley expected Aziraphale to sigh, then ask him to continue driving. Once home the angel would head back to his reading room with a cup of cocoa and not speak to Crowly for a few hours. Later they’d makeup and it’d be over and done with. But it wouldn’t, not really. No something this important was going to be shoved under the rug, they’d learned their lesson from 6000 of pining. 

“I think you are being a coward, Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly but firmly. “I have never known you to fear Heaven of Hell, not even once. This isn’t about them this is about us.”

Crowley seethed, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “You always see the bright side, you’re never realistic! What happens if we do that then, what happens when Heaven and Hell come and there’s nothing we can do to stop them from taking them away and--”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried all pretenses at a hard exterior dropped. “My dearest, you have been thinking about this.”

“We both know Heaven is bad, cold and fucking beurocratic. A bad place for kids. And Hell, they’d be better off dead than in Hell angel make no mistake about that. I can’t--” Crowley took a shuddering breath, staring at Aziraphale, hoping to make him  _ see _ , “I can’t bring them into the world only for them to be poked and prodded and tortured. I can’t be that cruel. I won’t.”

“But we made sure they won’t be coming after us for a long time, maybe never even. Surely the fact that we’ve been together a decade and not hear so much as a peep means we’re off the hook,” Aziraphale argued. It made Crowley’s blood boil, how naive Aziraphale could be sometimes. How he still, after all this time, believed Heaven and Hell would keep their word. 

“There’s no proof of that. And I might like to live life in the fast lane but not if it means getting kids hurt.” Aziraphale went to open his mouth but Crowley continued. “You know 10 years is a blink of the eye for us, and even more so for Above and Below. Talk to me in a millennia angel.”

“But you do want them. You just don’t think it’s safe right now?” Aziraphale looked hopeful again and Crowley didn’t have it in him to crush him a third time. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess. But we can’t.” He tried to put emphasis on that last big but Aziraphale was already learning over, placing his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezing. 

“Thank you, Crowley. I’m very sorry for calling you a coward, among the other things I said.”

This all felt a little easy to Crowley, but by that point, he was desperate for anything to end it. It gave him an out without having to resolutely say no, something he found almost impossible when it came to Aziraphale. Let him hope that they’d have another 1000 years undisturbed.

“Whatever, angel. Can we finish our drive in peace?” Aziraphale nodded, smiling slightly though his posture was still a little uncomfortable. Crowley shifted the Bently back into gear and felt the warm eat of Aziraphale’s hand rest over his. Even though he was still a little ticked off Crowley allowed it, relieved to know Aziraphale wasn’t actually angry with him for saying no. 

“Of course, I won’t say another word about it today.” Crowley noted the add-on of “today” but still kept silent. Something told him he hadn’t quite won this battle yet.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _ Oh Crowley,”  _ the angel moaned right in his ear, breath hot and damp and making the baby hairs near his temple stick down. Crowley was pressed into the bed below Aziraphale, the entirety of his back in contact with glorious, soft skin. The hot hardness of Aziraphale’s cock inside him, splitting him open and  _ really _ making him feel it. “So good, love, so good for me.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned into the pillows, canting his hips back, trying to get more of the angel inside him. Aziraphale’s cock was thick and long, hitting all those perfect spots inside. “Aziraphale  _ yes. _ ”

“I’m not going to last dear.” Crowley shuddered and thrust his hips again, trying to force Aziraphale to move. It worked and the angel began pulling back, then thrusting in at a slow, indulgent pace. “You’re so wet for me, so soft.”

“For you, angel, for you--!” And it was true, Crowley had never felt this way with anyone else. He’d had many human partners over the years, some he’d even sort of cared for, but none of them could compare to what he felt for Aziraphale. His love for the angel was a white-hot, burning thing that ate up anything in it's wake. “Take me, take me, take  _ me. _ ”

"I will,” Aziraphale answered darkly, keeping the slow speed but pushing in harder and there--! “I’m going to take everything you can give me Crowley, and then I’m going to  _ give it all back _ .”

That was a very Aziraphale way of saying he was going to cum inside the demon, filling him up in that way Crowley craved from time to time. Tonight he’d practically begged for it, rutted into Aziraphale’s lap as he read until the angel noticed the dampness seeping from Crowley’s sex onto their trousers. Crowley hadn’t outright said anything, but Aziraphale always seemed to just know what he needed.

“Oh  _ please _ angel, do it, do it!” Crowley was mindless with pleasure, clawing at the bed and howling as each thrust pummeled his g-spot. His clit barely brushed the bedsheets on the downswing but it didn’t matter, he was going to cum no matter what. Even though he’d already come twice with Aziraphale eating him out and once from his fingers. Whenever Aziraphale took it upon himself to spoil Crowley he always did a very thorough job.

Aziraphale removed his hands from where they’d been pinning Crowley’s arms to the bed to ghost over his hips. One of them cupped the demon’s lower belly, pressing and kneading at the flesh there. Crowley moaned at the added pressure. Though it really shouldn’t have, it shot a bolt of lust through him. There was something about the protectiveness and maybe the possessiveness of the action that made things that much more intense. 

“Built to take me--oh Crowley good Lord you wicked, lovely thing!” Aziraphale was babbling but Crowley didn’t care. He liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice, and he especially liked hearing Aziraphale’s voice say those things. There was a gathering heat in his belly, right under the angel’s hands and he began whining, high pitch and needy.

All of a sudden the only thing he could think about was how it would feel when Aziraphale came inside him. How wet he’d be, the noises, the sticky-satisfied feeling he’d leave behind. How Aziraphale would, possibly, beg to eat him out afterward. What would happen if Crowley, for just one brief second, gave in and tweaked his anatomy, switched a few things on. The mere idea of having something of Aziraphale and him inside him, some proof of their love and their devotion to each other, was enough to make him clench down subconsciously. 

“O-oh Crowley!” Aziraphale stammered his cock thickening and then spilling honestly excessive amounts of cum inside him. Between the pressure of the angel’s hand on his belly and the swelling of the cock inside Crowley felt so full, so  _ full _ \--he couldn’t help but come, convulsing against the sheets with a strangled, low moan. 

The moments between when they came and when Aziraphale pulled out were nothing but warm, contented bliss for Crowley. He couldn’t have cared less about what was going on around him; his mind was stuck somewhere in that gentle, soft place created by the bed and Aziraphale’s weight on his back. He’d been right, things felt downright  _ soaked _ down there, and the stickiness was more than a little unpleasant. It was worth it though, for a sense of pure satisfaction he felt. Behind him, Aziraphale was nuzzling against his spine, staying as close as possible. 

“Crowley?” the angel hummed, voice sleepy and sated. Crowley wiggled happily, grinding his arse back against the soft cock still pinned there. 

“M’good angel, s’good,” he slurred. There was cum leaking out of him and onto the bedsheets. He reached down to stick a few fingers inside, keeping it there for a little while longer. “Why’d you pull out?”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, darling,” Aziraphale answered. “Normally you’re so sensitive after.” 

“I am sensitive, that’s what makes it  _ good _ ,” Crowley laughed, shuddering as Aziraphale ghosted his hands over his hips and arse. They could go again, of course they could they weren’t actually human. They could fuck as many times as they wanted in a row without the need to stop and rest if they so chose. It just happened both of them both chose to let themselves be a little more human than the average demon or angle. Eventually, Crowley removed his fingers from his cunt and Aziraphale rolled onto his side, pulling Crowley along with him so they were spooning. 

“Are you tired?” Crowley asked. Sometimes Aziraphale didn’t feel like sleeping, though he did so much more often now that they lived together. Crowley still preferred to sleep on a regular schedule, however, so he always asked before passing out and trapping the angel. 

“Very, you wore me out thoroughly, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured into Crowley’s hair. It’d come free of the braid the demon normally kept it in and fell in sweaty hanks around his shoulders. Between that and the drying cum between his legs, Crowley was beginning to feel uncomfortable, so with a snap, they were both clean and the bed linens were fresh. 

“Good, wanna sleep with you.” He was already drifting off when he felt Aziraphale shifting behind him, running soft hands up and down his sides. Usually, when they were about to sleep, Aziraphale would go still and silent. Even after 10 years of sporadic sleeping, it didn’t come naturally. But now he was moving, keeping Crowley awake with his constant petting.

“I wanted to ask if you’ve given any more thought to that… thing we talked about a few days ago?” Aziraphale’s voice was still quiet, but much less sleepy than Crowley’s own. 

“What thing?” He was more interested in getting reacquainted with their comfy pillow and sheet set than doing much thinking. The 1000 thread-count sheets had been one of his choices since Aziraphale knew nothing about fabrics outside of his clothes. The colour had been a compromise, a nice earthy green that they could both agree on (though Aziraphale had fought long and hard for tartan, Crowley stood his ground). 

“The, well, the baby thing?”

For a few moments, Crowley could only think about the strange thoughts that had taken over him right as they both climaxed. They’d been nice thoughts, little fantasies he’d planned on keeping to himself. But they were fantasies and he knew that. Apparently the angel couldn’t understand that. 

“Told you no, thought I made that clear,” he said, sobering some and shaking off the afterglow. His desire to snuggle further into the pillows and sheets was immediately crushed; all he could think about was getting away from this conversation. “You said you wouldn’t keep going on about it.”

“But you want the same as me, Crowley, I can feel it!” So much for sleeping in his nice comfy bed. Crowley slithered out from under Aziraphale’s arm and to the edge of the bed. Sure, Azirahale could feel things in the way that angels and demons could feel lots of things others were experiencing, but it was all up to interpretation. Crowley wanted, yes he  _ wanted, _ but there was a difference between wanting and getting that his angel didn’t seem to understand. “It’s not like you to be scared like this! Id we could just talk--”

“Shut, up!” Crowley seethed, willing his legs not the shake as he left the bed in search of his trousers. Surely there was a bar open somewhere where he could drink himself silly and no one would try and talk to him. Or maybe he could take the Bently out for a drive, burn off all this extra  _ feeling _ on a long country road.

“I don’t even think this is about Heaven and Hell!” Aziraphale shouted from where he sat on the bed, arms crossed and face ruddy. “Crowley I see how you look at the girls, how you never want to leave after our meetings with them. And I’ve seen you for 6000 years being especially kind of children. I can sense love and you  _ love _ children. I’ve never known you to let Above or Below stop you from getting something you want. Why now, that we’re finally free to--”

“We are a demon and an angel! Can you even  _ imagine _ the things Heaven and Hell would do to get their hands on our children? You remember what they did to the Nephilim, yes? How they were destroyed, or turned into monsters haunting the lowest pits of Hell? N-now think, just God-damned think Aziraphale, if that was our kid! I couldn’t live with myself if that happened, or if they came out all wrong because of what I am, or--”

“Because of what you are?” Aziraphale interrupted brown furrowing. “Crowley is this about you being a demon?”

“Of course it’s about me being a demon! We don’t even know if an angel and a demon can… and if we can if the demon bits will work with the angel bits or if they’ll just ruin everything. Oh Somebody what if they turned out s-sick or s-something, because of--” He hadn’t even considered the fact that him being a demon could taint the kid. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought about it because kids could not happen. And if they didn’t happen, he didn’t have to think about how his Fall was still torturing him over 6000 years later. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called, getting out of the bed and rushing over to where Crowley had stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Crowley dear calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to bloody calm down! I told you to drop it! And you won’t stop asking! It  _ can’t happen! _ ” He was getting hysterical now. Hadn’t they been over this before? Why did Aziraphale have to keep dragging everything back up? Rubbing what they couldn’t have in his face over and over. There were tears at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t sure if they were from anger or frustration. Aziraphale stood a few feet away hovering guilty.

“It’s not fair!” Crowley bemoaned through clenched teeth. That was the core of it, wasn’t it? That they could have anything they wanted not, except for this. Because he’d asked  _ questions _ , stupid questions 6000 years ago. The regret was strong enough to make him gag a little. “If I h-hadn’t Fallen, we could h-have--” 

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “I didn’t realize--I’m sorry.” Aziraphale was often a little tone-deaf to situations like that, but he usually knew not to push once Crowley said no. Stupid, headstrong angel, who was moving too fast now?

“I told you we can’t, you said you’d drop it but you aren’t.” He took a deep breath before turning away from the angel to look for his shirt. “You aren’t fucking listening to me, I said we can’t! I  _ can’t! _ And you going on and on about it isn’t going to change that!”

Aziraphale watched him get dressed silently. It was unusual for the angel to have nothing to say, but then again it was also unusual for Crowley to get this upset. Crowley rarely raised his voice, not in anger at least, and  _ never _ towards Aziraphale. The fact that he’d gotten close made it abundantly clear that unless one of them backed off, this fight was going to cause some serious damage.

“I think I’m gonna go back to my flat for a while, cool off.” It nearly physically hurt him to say, but it was necessary. If Crowley didn’t put some distance between them now he knew from experience that one of them would say something truly hurtful. But even if it was for the best, it was still extremely difficult.

“O-oh,” Aziraphale whispered, hie eyes immediately beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. Crowley had kept flat for instances like this, where one or both of them needed time to themselves. He hadn’t had to use it very often in the last decade, but there were occasions where one of them felt strongly about something, and the other disagreed, so it had come in handy. The transition from hereditary enemies to lovers wasn’t always as smooth as expected. 

“I’ll be back in a few days, call if you need anything.” Of course he’d answer if Aziraphale needed anything, he wasn’t that mad. The angel wiped at his eyes and nodded glumly. It was a sorry sight, and enough to make Crowley soften a little. “Two days, OK? Just give me some time.”

Aziraphale looked up and offered a sheepish look. “Yes, OK. I’m sorry dearest.” Suddenly he seemed to remember he was completely naked and snapped his fingers so a soft, taupe robe fell around his form. “If you could let me know you’re alright… I would appreciate it.”

Crowley sighed again then snapped his own fingers so he was wearing a full outfit. It was late outside, and getting colder, so he added a jacket and scarf before turning to leave. “I’ll text you, angel. Get some sleep.”

The Bently was, of course, waiting for him in the driveway where he’d left it after running out to pick up lunch. Crowley stalked over to it and flung himself into the drivers seat. Right before he pulled out he saw a swish of the curtains to their bedroom window, then a shock of light hair. It really was hard to stay mad at the angel. But if 10 years of cohabitation and 6000 years of waiting had taught him anything, it was that boundaries were important. And Aziraphale had stamped all over his. 


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley spent the two days drinking, thinking, and wallowing, in that order. First, he got rip-roaring drunk, then kept going past that into a maudlin type of drunkenness. That led to the thinking, which had been much harder than normal, but also much more honest. 

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and he watched as all of London was bathed in warm light.  He was scared. He could admit that to himself easily, especially when he was so drunk. What he was scared of was a little more complicated, and Crowley had been thinking on it for the better part of three hours. Because on the one hand, he was worried about Heaven and Hell and the safety of any hypothetical little ones. He really was. But on the other hand, he’d said something during their fight that he hadn’t realized he’d been worried about.

Demon spawn were A Thing, and they were generally terrible. Sometimes a demon decided to have some fun on the mortal level and demons weren’t known for being the most careful of beings. Best case scenario was something that was essentially a demon, but mortal. Worst case whatever came out was some sort of writhing mass of demonic energy and hatred. Would that happen to any of his offspring too? Or would the angelic influences cancel it out? But the Nephilim had been somewhat monstrous too, so was it a lost cause from both ends?

And that was where the thinking transitioned into wallowing. Because he was also drunk enough to admit that he really,  _ really _ wanted to give in to Aziraphale’s badgering, hang the consequences. They’d at least have some time before having to face what they’d done. Who knew how long demon-angel hybrid babies took to form, or gestate or whatever (Crowley only knew as much as he did from his time working on a London pediatrics ward. He was supposed to have been sowing the seeds of evil in the new generation, but he ended up delivering and caring for more newborns than anything else). 

But the guilt would be too much. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it was doomed to be some sort of horror that never fit in. He’d love them, of course, whatever they were or would become but to imagine the difficulty of growing up in a world that would detest them... Well, at least Crowley had been fully formed and matured when it had happened to him. 

He ran out of scotch on the balcony by noon of the first day. But he wasn’t done sulking so he moved back inside and on to the brandy. Brandy was the perfect spirit to drink while tormenting his plants, though there were only a few left in the flat. They were his favourite, and he kept them here to avoid the angel over-indulging and spoiling them. 

“Yooooou lot,” he slurred, brandishing his spray bottle in one hand and the brandy in the other. “You don’t argue with me! Y-y-you’re all jus’  _ plants! _ ”

A hydrangea, who had long exceeded it’s expected lifespan by several years and was one of the most verdant plants in Crowley’s collection, leaned towards him sympathetically. Most of these plants had been with him for years and had grown a kind of fondness for their tyrannical, but caring master. Crowley spared the hydrangea a glance over, inspecting it for blemishes. He found none. 

“Yoooou’re not compli--complicated, you’re not good or-or-or-or evil. You’re jus’ plants!” The while lily near the door shuddered, knowing things were really bad if the demon was repeating himself. Crowley  _ never _ liked to repeat himself. 

“If you wanna have b-b-babies you can jus’  _ drop seeds! _ ” His voice cracked at the end so he wet his parched mouth with some more brandy. “I like sssseeds, such ma-marv-maver-- _ nice _ little thingss.” Four letter words, good Lord he was sloshed. Dropping the spray bottle and picking up the watering can Crowley deftly overwatered a nearby ivy. Luckily the ivy knew better than to wilt. 

“Like little things, like babiesss, an’ kids. Not sooooo much t-teenagerss but they’ve got ssspirit!” All the plants were leaning in now. Some of them opened up a few extra blooms, offering comfort in the way only plants knew how. “Alwaysss thought I’d make a shit p-parent though, an’ look how Warlock turned out…”

“Could be different, though, raisin’ one and not t-trying to make it, you know, not the Antichrissst.” Indeed he hadn’t been so much raising Warlock as he had been coaching him. And if he and Aziraphale were to do it together properly this time who knows what could happen? “Still can’t though. Angel n’a demon, probably be smited for even trying. Smote? Sssmitten?”

He pondered that for a while, letting the last few glugs of water drip out of his watering can and onto the floor. It was a lost cause though because all he could think about was tiny angel babies with their soft, fluffy hair and little grabby hands. “D’you think they’d look like him? I hope they do.” Crowley was idly swaying back and forth, lost in his daydream. “Hope they have his nose an’ eyess at least, mine are  _ terrible _ . But m’wings are nicer so…” 

“I don’t wanna be sscared,” he said quietly to his favourite rose bush. “I want to--I want to give Azirahale what he wants. I want what he wantsss, and if I gave in we could both have it but I’m ssscared!”

The argument last night had left Crowley unable to sleep, but he was getting tired now. Maybe he should use his last day and a half--he checked his fancy watch; day and a quarter--to sleep this off. Tossing the spray bottle somewhere towards the wall--it would be back in its place the next time he went to use it--and heading towards his bedroom, Crowley realized he hadn’t yet texted Aziraphale like he’d promised. No matter, his phone was on the bedside table anyway. He could let the angel know he’d be back tomorrow, and they could make up. Nevermind how that was going to happen, since they both still had opposing views on the matter.

The first time he had come to stay at the flat after he and Aziraphale had a tiff, the angel had blown up his phone with calls and texts. Crowley had done the same the first time Aziraphale locked himself away in his study and refused to come out. They had since come to an understanding and formed a system of brief check-ins and hard time limits to ease each other's anxiety. They stuck to the rules, and it seemed to be a good way of letting off some steam and ending arguments, as long as they talked about it afterward. 

This time, Crowley had been a little lax in his following of their rules. It had already been nearly an entire day of no-contact and Aziraphale had been sending worried messages for at least six hours. To his credit there were only a few voicemails, which Crowley would listen to later, and not the deluge there had been that first time. They were all standard fare, Aziraphale calling in the morning after Crowley left, then calling back around lunch. The angel was doing a good job of keeping the worry out of his voice, but Crowley could tell it was there. 

Immediately Crowley sent off a text assuring Aziraphale he was fine and had lost track of time, complete with heart emojis, then fell into bed. As drunk as he was it didn’t take very long for him to drift off, even though he forgot to change into anything comfortable or get under the covers. 

* * *

Crowley walked into their cottage in time for tea the next day carrying a selection of cake slices. He didn’t really have anything to apologize for, but coming back empty-handed felt wrong. Plus the cakes might distract from the hangover Crowley had. He’d meant to fix himself up before bed, but hadn’t and now his head ached too bad to focus on any demonic miracles.

“I’m home!” he called out into the foyer, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly out of the doorway. The house smelled like old books and tea, which was better than burning food. The second time Crowley had taken some time to himself Aziraphale had decided to take up baking to soothe his nerves. It hadn’t gone well. “I brought cake!”

Aziraphale came around from his study and stood in the doorway, hovering. “Welcome home dear. Did I hear you say cake?”

This was the routine when Crowley returned. Whether in the right or wrong he’d come back bearing treats and Aziraphale would flitter about like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. Eventually, they’d both sit down and talk about what happened, which had twice led to Crowley storming back out and more often led to lovely make-up sex. He wasn’t sure what to expect this time, given the thing they were arguing about. There wasn’t much to talk  _ about _ , either Aziraphale dropped it, or he didn’t. Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen if Aziraphale didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, picked some up on my way over from that little bakery where they mill their own flour. Figured it was pretentious enough that you’d like it,” Crowley teased, none too eager to get to the heart of their issues. What if he and Aziraphale couldn’t move past this? What if this was the thing that ended them, not their former sides, or the Apocolypse, or their opposing natures? Crowley wasn’t sure he could survive without the angel in his life, but he also wasn’t sure he could concede on this particular issue. He also wasn’t sure if he could stick to his guns for too much longer, given what he’d realized last night. 

“Oh hush you. Take it into the kitchen I’ll be there in just a tick.” Crowley nodded and went through, surreptitiously glancing around their home. Aziraphale was prone to fussing with the layout of things when he was left to his own devices, just like he had at the bookshop. There he’d been able to justify it as a tactic to confuse customers and discourage book purchases. In the cottage, however, it was obvious he did it from anxiety. Everything looked to be in order though, so Crowley continued on and set the cakes down on the table. With a snap of his fingers, the slices were laid out on plates and the kettle was boiling for tea. 

“Early Grey or Twinings?” he called over his shoulder towards where Aziraphale’s office was. He could hear the angel moving about back there and assumed he was cleaning up whatever he had been using to preoccupy himself with while Crowley was away. 

“Twinings please, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled. Must be messing with his book storage, Crowley thought, pouring each of them a cup with shakey hands. He really wished he’d spent less time drinking and sleeping yesterday, and more time  _ actually _ thinking about what he was going to say to Aziraphale. All he’d figured out was that they had to worry about a lot more than just Heaven and Hell’s reaction and that if Aziraphale kept asking, he might not be strong enough to refuse. 

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, taking his own and perching on the edge of a dining chair. Of course, Aziraphale still heard him and walked quickly into the room looking more than a little flustered. With an excited wiggle he took a seat and began to fawn over the cakes. “Take whichever you want, I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure dear? That dark chocolate mouse cake looks right up your ally,” Aziraphale pointed out, digging into his strawberry shortcake. He was right, Crowley had bought that slice of cake specifically for himself. It would have been not too sweet and everything he liked in a desert, but the worry about what needed to be said had ruined his appetite. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Aziraphale glanced down to his slice, then set his silverware down regretfully. “I said go ahead angel, I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a little, his hands disappearing under the table. Crowley knew from experience they would find their way under his thighs, crushed tight against the chair’s wood in an effort to keep them from flitting all over. Another habit from Aziraphale’s time with Heaven, where any stimming had been harshly discouraged. “No, I think we have a lot to talk about. And I want to apologize. Again.”

Crowley remained silent, knowing that Aziraphale had probably prepared what he wanted to say. As usual he was correct. 

“I was wrong to keep asking you about…  _ it _ when you told me not to. I was being selfish, and not thinking about how you felt and terribly rude. And then you came back after I was so horrible and you came back with  _ cake! _ ” Aziraphale’s voice was getting louder and more high pitched as he went. It was obvious he was getting upset with himself but Crowley knew that interrupting him right now would only make things worse. “I got excited, and then I was pushy and I hurt you, dearest. I’m so sorry. I-I know I can be a little, well,  _ tone-deaf _ but you said I was making you upset so explicitly and I just ignored you! How could I do that to you? Oh Crowley I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Aziraphale had begun rocking back and forth a tiny amount, quick little movements that he probably didn’t even notice he was making. “You’re right, of course. It’s so very dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking about it when you obviously had. I want to make it up to you, Crowley, if I even can.”

It hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting, given how persistent Aziraphale could be, and it was honestly a little disappointing. He may have been secretly hoping that the angel would be able to convince him, or had maybe thought of something Crowley had missed that would give them the go-ahead. But this was OK too, this meant they wouldn’t have to fight anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it and they could move on. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Apology accepted angel. I’m sorry I stormed out.” Crowley was always quick to forgive Aziraphale, it was like it was impossible for him to stay angry at the angel. Though the way Aziraphale’s disrespect of his boundaries still stung, Crowley didn’t want to hold a grudge and make things worse, so he wouldn’t. 

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale stopped rocking but kept his hands firmly under his legs. Usually, this was the point where they hugged and made up, but his angel was still sitting, slightly tense. “Was your time away helpful?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally. Aziraphale didn’t ask what he did when he was he spent time away after a fight, and he was immediately suspicious. “Sure, checked on the plants, slept for a while. The usual.” He left out the drinking. Over the last 5 years or so Aziraphale had grown concerned with the amount Crowley drank, even if he was an immortal being incapable of experiencing withdrawal. He had cut back, but times like the other night were another story. 

“Good, good.” The silence was back, and heavier. “And I assume that, from this point on, you do not wish to discuss  _ that issue _ again?” The tentative nature of Aziraphale’s vice made it hard to hear if he was disappointed, or just being himself. Crowley cleared his throat. 

“That's probably for the best yeah.” But oh he wanted, wanted,  _ wanted. _ It was killing him to deny them this thing that any old human could have easily. They could have anything else in the world, with their powers, but not this. 

“Alright, you won’t hear me speak another word about it. If you ever want to--well I’ll follow you lead dearest.” And Now Aziraphale was leaning over, one of his hands taking Crowley’s and squeezing. It was extremely warm from being tucked under his legs, but the demon still felt cold. “Now, if you’d like, I think you should try that ca--”

They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the front door. It was very rare for them to have guests and even rarer that they should drop by unexpectedly. The only other time anyone arrived was for deliveries, and even those were few and far between. 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Aziraphale seemed all too eager to have something else to focus on, and to be honest Crowley was as well. He rose from the table, cakes and tea forgotten, and bustled to the door. Crowley stayed in the kitchen, trying to collect the unspooled pieces of himself. It was over, they had Talked, and now they could move on and everything would be just fine! Crowley repeated that over and over in his head, trying to drown out the  _ wanting _ ; just fine. He was so focused on not wanting that he almost missed Aziraphale’s sharp “oh dear!”. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything alright angel?” He was on his feet and sauntering into the foyer. Sometimes a particularly brave canvasser for some local church or scam organization would show up and Crowley had to scare them off. Often Aziraphale was too polite to do so himself, especially if they didn’t take to his subtle hints. Only once had the angel gotten stern with someone, and that had been when they tried to good old ‘foot in the door’ technique. In that instance, Crowley had had to save the canvasser form Aziraphale. 

That wasn’t what he found when he waltzed through the doorway. Standing there was Gabriel and Beezelbub in all their Heavenly and Hellish glory. They wore the same expression, of annoyance mixed with a large dash of disgust. “Oh shit.”


	4. Chapter 4

God did not play dice with the universe. She did occasionally flip a coin, though that was only to help her know which option she  _ really _ favoured. There was a Plan, an idea of how things were meant to go, but sometimes She liked to step in and fiddle a bit. Other times, She thought it was best if She stepped back and let things take their course. 

That was what She had been doing with Earth for the last few thousand years. She watched, and She waited to see what Her children--including the angels and the demons--would do with what she’s given them. She created the Metatron to speak for Her, to add even more distance, and things went as they did for a very long time. 

She had Her favourites, of course. Mortals, angels, demons, there were always a select few She enjoyed looking in on when the fancy took Her. Of all of them, Her Crowley and Aziraphale were the most interesting. How they adapted, how they grew around each other and became so intertwined that even She could barely tell their auras apart. How they, or all the would-be protectors and destroyers of Earth, really understood humanity and Her creation. 

Which was why, when She decided to look in on them again a while after everything, She was gravely concerned. It seemed that they had carved out a little life for themselves, and She was happy for that. But there was discord as well. A large amount of sadness and pain had begun to emanate from them both and it only took one quick look to see why. Oh, Her poor children. So worried about doing wrong when they were incapable of it. And there, just as She glanced over, were two more of Her children, both misguided in their endeavour to uphold what they thought was right. 

This wouldn’t do. Those two, the former not the latter, had been through so much in the name of Her Ineffable Plan. They deserved a break and She would not allow anyone, even Her angel Gabriel and his demonic counterpart, to interrupt their well-deserved peace. 

God hadn’t been down to Earth in a formal capacity for millennia. She dropped in once or twice a century to try some of the food, and listen to the music; to walk among the people and truly get to know Her creations. But it had been a long time since She revealed herself in Her glory on the mortal plane. This would be a special treat for all parties involved, if not marginally terrifying. Better to choose a more comforting form, one that wouldn’t make Her children quake in fear ( even if that may have been Her goal, just a little bit, when it came to Beezlebub and Gabriel; they had both been led so far astray). 

She saw Aziraphale open the door, saw Crowley come up behind him take in the twin grimaces on their antagonist's faces. There was no more time to waste watching, She knew, and in a flash of Holy light, God was back on Earth, just a few meters down the block from one South Downs cottage. 

* * *

“Crowley,” Beezelbub growled, looking right past Aziraphale. Conversely, Gabriel’s icy gaze was training on the angel, something restrained and dark hiding there. Crowley wanted to step in front of Aziraphale, to shield him from both their former bosses, but Aziraphale was taking up the entire doorway and refusing to budge even with Crowley’s insistent tugging at the hem of his jacket. 

“Angel…” Crowley begged, but Aziraphale wouldn’t budge. “Angel get back!”

“Gabriel, Beelzebub. What a… surprise,” Aziraphale said in his best customer-scaring pleasant-but-cold tone. “To what do we owe this visit?”

“Don’t play games with us, Aziraphale,” Gabriel drawled in his usual, unaffected tone. “You know exactly why we’re here so cut the shit.”

Honestly, Crowley wasn’t sure why both of them were on their doorstep, only that it wasn’t good. Had it really taken Heaven and Hell a decade to figure out the switcharoo they pulled with the hellfire and holy water? Or were they finally tired of all the self-indulgent miracles the two had been performing and where here to put a stop to it? 

“I assure you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beezlebub took a step forward, their flies buzzing around all four parties in an incredibly vile fashion. Crowley reflexively tugged at Aziraphale again even though he knew it was pointless.

“Don’t be smart with me,  _ angle _ ,” the way they said it was so unlike how it sounded coming from Crowley’s mouth, and it made him twitch, “don’t you think we know  _ everything _ about what you’ve been doing?”

“Did you forget about the back channels?” Someone, Crowley wanted to punch that smug look off of Gabriel’s face. “We know the--frankly disgusting--things you’ve been discussing. You know that creating more of those Abominations is forbidden. I didn’t think you’d stoop so low, but I’m not surprised.”

Crowley’s jaw tightened and his teeth began to sharpen into fangs instinctually. He felt Aziraphale stiffen as well, his hands clenching behind his back in a rapid rhythm. This was not what either of them had been expecting to happen, at least, not in this way. Maybe they shouldn’t have banked so much on their ruse keeping the Powers that Be away and sorted out an actual plan. Considering who they were dealing with, there probably wasn’t much they could have done outside of trading bodies permanently and that was not an option.

“Well I never…” Aziraphale blustered. It was hard for him to get the words out, and Crowley wasn’t in the state of mind to even try. Gabriel looked like he was going to try and barge his way into their home at any second to dispatch Heavenly justice, and Beezelbub just looked thrilled about the entire thing and Crowley had no idea what to do. He tried to grip onto Aziraphale tighter, to keep him close, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You both better come quietly this time and no ‘funny business’. God knows how you managed to get out of your punishments last time, but it’s not going to happen again.” Faster than either of them could react there were restraints around their wrists. Beezlebub was smirking waving their hand and adding fabric gags to the works. Both were tied too tightly, making Crowley squirm uncomfortably as his lips were pressed into his fangs. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be faring much better, wiggling frantically against the bonds. 

“We aren’t using hellfire and holy water this time,” Beezlebub hissed, pushing past Aziraphale to grab Crowley. Behind them Gabriel did the same with the angel and Crowley watched as Azirpahale flinched at the unwanted touch. Oh Somebody was this how things were going to end? They’d barely gotten to make up, he hadn’t even gotten to  _ kiss _ his angel in 2 days. “If we can’t destroy you outright, we’ll just make you wish we could.”

Crowley knew about the Pits of Hell. He’d been a few times over the years for various reasons (and sometimes no reason at all, Hell just liked to torture their employees and they were  _ very _ good at it) so he knew what to expect. But Crowley had no idea of what Heaven would do to Aziraphale, could only imagine it’d been much, much worse than his own fate what with how insidiously harsh Gabriel and the other angels could be. He tried to struggle against his bonds and Beezlebub’s grip, desperate to save Aziraphale if not himself, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming you--!” A polite cough interrupted The Prince of Hell’s insult. All four beings on the steps snapped to attention immediately--it was impossible not to recognize that voice. Crowley wasn’t sure if they were about to be saved, or even further punished. 

Gabriel was the first to recover, turning around to fully face the person-shaped Almighty without letting go of Aziraphale. “Lord, it’s such an honour that you would come here to personally witness the punishment of these tra--”

God held up a hand, the face of the corporation she was wearing impassive. The grip on his arms began to slacken and Crowley realized Beezlbub was gawking at the figure in front of them. To be fair, Crowley would have been doing the same if the gag allowed; this was the first time any demon had been in the presence of the Almighty since The Fall. 

“I have already seen what’s going on here, Gabriel. Under whose authority are you exacting this punishment? Because no one has consulted me, or the Metatron, on this matter.” Gabriel looked nervous. Eyebrows rising high into his hairline, Crowley felt himself begin to, impossibly, hope.

“They intend to create an Abomination, my Lord! And you decreed after the Nephilim--”

“Silence, Gabriel. And Beezlebub close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” If their situation had been less dire Crowley would have giggled at the way Beezlebub’s mouth clicked shut on command. Instead he stared in awe at the unimposing, but undeniably powerful form in front of him. 

“Now, if you had done things properly, and put forward your request for the Angel Aziraphale to be punished, you would have discovered, My Archangel, that My feelings on the matter are very different than yours. And as for the Demon Crowley, I was under the impression that Hell had made an oath to keep their distance, and a Demonic Oath is not something to be broken willy-nilly.” Crowley did make a hysterical noise at that, muffled as it was. Aziraphale glanced back at him and they shared a mutual look of “what the fuck is going on?”. 

“Furthermore,” She continued, “if you had taken the time to check, you would have seen that there is no Law against the fraternization of Angels and Demons in any capacity. So tell me then, why you have accosted these two in their own home,  _ and _ why you have been spying on them?”

Gabriel sputtered, chocking out half-words and phrases while trying to make himself look as small and apologetic as possible. It was hilarious to watch, but not as funny as the way Beezlebub was squirming under God’s benevolent stare. 

“And you, Beezlebub. I will not pretend to order you about, but I want you to know that I am  _ very _ disappointed. Is this really the kind of thing Hell is using it’s resources on or is this just a petty grudge you two have against these poor boys?” Beezlebub shrank and mumbled into their shoes. Crowley couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he had a pretty good idea. Taking advantage of their distraction he shuffled forward under his shoulder was just barely brushing Aziraphale's. His angel looked back again and this time there was a sparkle in his eyes.

“You will release them at once, and you and any other members of Heaven or Hell will  _ never _ attempt to interfere in their lives again. Have I made myself clear?” Her tone was that of a scolding mother and it brought back all sorts of memories from before Crowley’s Fall. He’d often gotten into trouble and received similar reprimands. “You will answer Me.”

“Yes, Almighty,” Gabriel grovelled, staring down at his outdated shoes. Beezlebub did some more mumbling and grumbling but it seemed to be enough for God because She nodded decisively. 

“Good. Now away with you both. I would like to speak with them Myself and I will not have you  _ spying _ .” With a wave of Her hand the Archangel and The Prince of Hell were banished back to their separate realms. Crowley and Aziraphale stood motionless, still bound and not entirely sure what was about to happen next. 

“Well, that’s taken care of! Oh, sorry, My dears, let me get those for you.” She gestured and their bindings disappeared. Immediately Aziraphale turned in towards Crowley just as Crowley’s arms opened, ready to receive him. God said nothing as they clung to each other; let them have a few moments to come to grips with the fact they had nearly been separated again and lived. 

“I cannot stay long, as <y presence here often disrupts Things. Are you alright, My sweet Aziraphale and My star Crowley?” She asked. Aziraphale shuddered and nodded, obviously trying to pull himself together enough to say  _ something _ . Funnily enough, Crowley was able to find his voice first, though it was shaky and off-pitch. 

“Why d’You care? Dropped me into a pit of boiling sulphur not 6000 years back didn’t You?” Aziraphale made a shocked noise, his hands fluttering up to cover Crowley’s mouth, but it was too late. Crowley had spent a long time sending angry not-prayers Her way, and he wasn’t going to miss this chance to say some of them in person.

God looked pensive for a moment. “Your Falling is one of My greatest regrets, Crowley. You were so inquisitive, but also very kind, which is why I needed you down on Earth. I needed someone unafraid to ask hard questions. Besides, you would not have been happy in Heaven, you were not like the others.” 

“That’s not an apology.” He wasn’t sure where this bravery was coming from, maybe he’d finally gone over the deep end. Either way, this was happening. 

God smiled. “Would you accept any I have to give?” 

No he wouldn’t, and the fact that she knew that made him want to pout. Luckily Aziraphale had found his words in time to stop Crowley from staying anything too stupid. 

“Thank you, Lord. You help has been much... appreciated,” he said, wringing his hands and glancing behind him past Crowley and into their home. 

“But?” She asked, amused. Aziraphale flinched while Crowley grinned, proud of his bastard angel. 

“But only, I do think Crowley and I would like to sit down and recover from the whole ‘once again facing our d ooms” thing, so if I could be so bold as to ask if You had any other er, business with us?” It was phrased politely enough, but anyone who knew the angel would know that tone. Of course, She knew Aziraphale completely, but She also seemed to understand. 

“You will be able to rest soon enough. I only wanted to make sure you were both safe, and to let you know something very important.” Crowley scoffed and tightened his hold on Aziraphale almost protectively. 

“Another Great Plan?” She smiled and Aziraphale paled. Crowley couldn’t help himself from asking questions. 

“No, nothing like that. I only wanted you to know, that you do not have to be afraid of being punished by Heaven or Hell. Or Me. You have My permission to live here, on Earth, as you like.  _ However, _ you like.” She smiled beatifically, while also giving them a wink. “I won’t keep you any longer. Goodbye, Aziraphale, Crowley.”

And with that, God turned around and strolled down their front path and out to the street. As She walked along the roadside and eventually out of sight Crowley and Aziraphale remained frozen in the doorway. Again Crowley was the first to recover enough to speak.

“Did God just… did She just--?” he stuttered, his legs shaking from the slow wearing-off of the adrenaline that had kept them both standing. "Did she just give us permission to--?”

“Be fruitful and multiply?” Aziraphale finished, his voice airy and slightly unfocused. “I believe she did.” 

A beat. Then Crowley unwrapped his arms from around his angel, instead bringing his hands up to grab at Aziraphale’s shirt collar. “Angel, if you don’t take me inside right now and fuck me, I’m going to scream.”

It was kind of a jump, going from fighting over how they could never have  _ that _ , to jumping into bed without even discussing the logistics of things, but Crowley didn’t care. God Herself had just told them it was OK to do the one thing he thought he'd never be allowed to do, and that it would turn out alright. He had enough faith left in Her not to second guess this blessing. 

“Oh dear, are you sure? We haven’t really talked about this, and it’s such a big step…” Immediately Crowley was stepping back. Of course, he’d misunderstood, he’d jumped the gun like always, he’d gone to fast. Aziraphale noticed and took initiative, keeping Crowley close with a hand on his lower back and leading them both inside. 

“Don’t pull away dear, I only wanted to make sure. You were so upset before, and I know what She said but if you need more time I--” But Crowley was done waiting, and he mashed their faces together messily. Aziraphale made a noise of surprise, then quickly caught up to speed, taking Crowley’s face in his hands and cupping his jaw. “Really? You want to? With me?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Crowley whined, rubbing their hips together insistently. “I do want to, but I didn’t think we could. But we can and I swear to Somebody we can talk more  _ later _ .”

Aziraphale didn’t argue, he couldn’t really with the way Crowley was begging. They were both still a little shaky, which presented a problem when Crowley was essentially trying to wrap himself around the angel like the snake he was. It only took a few minutes before it was obvious they either had to move somewhere where they could lay down, or do it on the floor of their front hall. The second option sounded appealing to both of them just for the immediacy, but they’d spent hours picking out sheets they both liked, and it would be a shame not to use the bed at every opportunity. 

“Upstairs,” Crowley ordered, taking the angel by the hand and dragging him up to the second floor. The narrow cottage stairs were Hell to get up while Aziraphale was behind him trying to undo his belt but Crowley managed. At least their bedroom was the first room at the top. The door was open and the bed was made, their usual bottle of lube waiting on the bedside table innocuously. 

“Crowley,” the murmur of Aziraphale’s voice was sweet as honey and twice as thick. “I want to--”

“Yes,” Crowley interrupted, miricaling the buttons and fastenings on Aziraphale’s waistcoat open. “Whatever you want, I want it like that.”

“On the bed. Trousers off.” Crowley scrambled to do ask he was asked, thankful for the solidness of the mattress underneath him finally. By the time he got comfortable his skinny jeans and shirt had disappeared to Satan-knew where, and he wasn’t wearing any pants. Aziraphale eyed him appreciatively in the same way he’d size up a delicious brunch spread and it made the demon’s whole body tingle. He arranged himself in a way that he hoped was appealing, legs spread open and his arms outstretched. 

“Don’t keep me waiting, angel,” he rasped, wiggling his ass against the sheets a little. The only other sounds were the fast wooshing of Aziraphale’s breath and a faint ticking from the grandfather clock in the hall. “Want you in me, if you don’t mind.”

With a snap Aziraphale was naked too, exposing his cock to the cool air and making Crowley’s cunt clench with anticipation. A vagina seemed like a good idea for this sort of thing and he’d already had one because it looked better with his skinny jeans. It was the least effort to make the changes to his Effort this way, to tweak things to be  _ on _ , more or less. “Oh Crowley, so pretty… like a flower--a rose.”

“Sssshut it!” Crowley hissed, thrusting up and down against the air. He was making his needs perfectly obvious but Aziraphale was going so slowly. “You can compliment me later but right now I want to celebrate the fact we aren’t  _ fucking dead  _ by shagging until I can’t walk!”

Finally Aziraphale got onto the bed, his knees coming to rest along the backs of Crowley’s thighs, their sexes nearly touching. “I intend to hold you to that, love. But for now, I’ll give you what you want.”

The Aziraphale was holding his member at the base, guiding it towards where Crowley wanted it most. Had it really only been a few days since they were last together? It felt like another 6000 years. The tip gently nudged between his folds and it was familiar and  _ good _ . Normally he preferred to drag things out a bit to get them both to the point of begging, but Crowley knew he'd lose his marbles if he had to wait even a second more for Azirpahale to be inside him.

“Get. On. With. It.” His growling was made less intimidating but the fact each word came out with just the hint of a whine. Maybe he should flip them over, really give the angel a run for his money. That was his plan until Aziraphale began to move forward, stretching Crowley out in that way that made him ache inside. He could remember the first time he’d seen Aziraphale’s Effort, and how gobsmacked he’d been; trust the angel to have a pornstar cock without even an ounce of shame about it.

“You’ve very wet, darling,” Aziraphale cooed, bending over to kiss along Crowley’s collarbones. “So beautiful, my lovely boy. Always ready for me.”

“Aziraphale--!” The angel’s hands were drifting down to Crowley’s chest, his waist, his thighs. Skirting around his clit with butterfly presses as he finally shoved himself inside with a perfectly rough thrust. “ _ Yes _ , Aziraphale, more!”

Aziraphale hushed him, though he was making little gasps of his own every once and awhile. “You deserve everything, my starlight.” He’s playing with the hair at the base of Crowley’s neck, a rhythmic winding and unwinding that perfectly complemented the clenching of his stomach. Crowley mewled at the praise, spreading his legs wider and grabbing Aziraphale around the shoulders. The angel smelled like sweat and their garden and his favourite tea; all things that made Crowley’s throat tight and his eyes wet. To stave off the incoming sob he turned his head and connected their lips in a hungry kiss. 

It wasn’t going to take long for either of them to cum at the frantic pace Aziraphale was setting. But that was fine because they had nowhere else to be, and nothing else to do other than to enjoy each other. They could spend years wrapped up in bed together if they wanted, though their mutual acquaintances might come looking for them after a while. Especially once their newest godchild was born, at least. 

Which reminded Crowley what they were  _ actually _ doing here. This wasn’t run-of-the-mill sex, this had a  _ purpose _ . When Aziraphale came he was going to… and Crowley would… Oh he couldn’t even think it without his whole body flushing. Later he’d probably laugh at himself, how excited he got over such a normal, human thing, but in the moment it only made him moan harder. Knowing Aziraphale was going to cum inside him, and it was going to take and make something that was both of them mixed together. Satan. 

“Let me--fuck!--let me ride you,” Crowley gasped, pushing at Aziraphale’s shoulders and trying to shift them. “Aziraphale let me--please!”

“Yes, yes.” And then they were flipping, Aziraphale’s cock miraculously staying inside him the whole way and wasn’t that fantastic? Crowley started a good pace, slower than before but with much more grinding. His clit--maybe a little larger than a standard human’s but he was a  _ demon _ after all--could rub against Aziraphale’s pubic bone if he slowed down a little and got the angle right. It made the angel groan and lift his hips to give Crowley all the room he needed to work. 

Like a ship's mast broken in a storm, Crowley tipped forward onto Aziraphale’s chest, hips and legs still working hard to bring them to completion. Strong but soft hands wrapped around his waist to aid in their movements. Sex had always been something Crowley enjoyed, even before he and Aziraphale had finally gotten together, but it had never been like this. Like pleasure was bursting from the seams of his corporation, and then love was filling up the cracks. He found his mouth level with one of the angel’s nipples so he kissed it, a weak action to express the overwhelming surge of emotion. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s nipples were always very sensitive and Crowley knew that. “Crowley you’re so good. I-I’m going to come darling, I’m going to come in you--!” 

Crowley felt, actually  _ felt _ , the angel come inside him. There was wetness, and throbbing, and Crowley rode him through it into his own orgasm, which hit him so hard he actually screamed. He may have slowed down time too, just a little, to extend their pleasure beyond what would normally be possible. By the time he let things go back to normal, he was shuddering, curled up on the angel’s chest with Aziraphale’s hands in his hair, stroking softly. Everything was hot and damp, but in a way that was enjoyable rather than disgusting. 

“Are you back with me, dear?” Aziraphale asked softly, continuing to pet at Crowley’s curls. “That was a wicked trick, turning off time like that. You’ve worn yourself out.”

“Ngk.” There was a burning in his legs and a breathlessness in his chest that was just this side of unpleasant. Maybe stopping time to prolong one’s orgasm was a little much for the human form he wore. “Angel?”

“I’m here, dearest. What do you need?” Aziraphale, ever the gentleman bastard, grinned. “You feel very good, so loose and relaxed around my cock.”

It was then that Crowley, in his post-orgasm glow, realized that Aziraphal was still hard inside him, rocking very gently as to not overstimulate the poor demon. The moment Crowley became aware of it, it was like he couldn’t get enough, whimpering pathetically into Aziraphale’s light smattering of chest hair with renewed arousal. 

“You know,” Aziraphale started and his voice was soft but also had a dark, foreboding twinge to it, “it can take some couples many times to, ah, conceive. It would be in our best interest to, well, to give it a go as much as we can. Unless it’s too much for you.”

Maybe it was too much, but Crowley liked too much. Too much alcohol, too much speed (of the driving, and the illegal substance variety), too much Aziraphale. He loved it all, craved it even. Determined to show his angel just how on board he was Crowley ground down weakly. Not enough to get anything done, but enough that Aziraphale would feel it. 

“I can keep going,” he mumbled, barely able to get more than a few thrusts in before his tired legs gave up. “I want it.”

Aziraphale smiled down at him and placed a kiss on Crowley’s head. “Good. Let me just--” Aziraphale tipped them sideways this time, then rolled Crowley over more so his back was against the angel’s chest. This time his cock did come out, and Crowley made a little noise of discontent as he felt come and his own slick leak out over his thighs. “Just a tick dear. Lift your leg? Good boy, thank you.”

If the angel kept going on like that Crowley wasn’t going to last, which was alright, because the demon would let Aziraphale fuck him for as long as he liked. Crowley would be happy to lay here and receive anything Aziraphale wanted to give him and to bask in the attention and love. Especially after thinking they were done for, especially after having to face the idea that one of the last conversations he would have had with the most important person in his entire was mostly an argument. The tears came back again and this time they ran down his face freely, soaking the pillow. At least he was facing away and Aziraphale wouldn’t see them. 

Then Aziraphale was guiding his cock back inside and Crowley was throwing his head back against his shoulder. If possible, it felt even better than the first time. Crowley wasn’t sure if it was the extra lubrication from Azirapahle’s cum, or the oversensitivity, but he felt like he was floating outside of himself, tethered only by the grounding span of Aziraphale’s hands around his waist and the occasional jap to his sweet spot. Everything felt so good and perfect, like pieces slotting together to become whole again after an eternity apart. 

“Love you,” he cried, unable to keep all of his messy emotions from spilling out. Crowley was a mess of tears, and sweat, and pure adoration. “Aziraphale I--oh  _ shit _ \--I love you!” 

“Mmm, so sweet for me Crowley. I adore you, I want--” Aziraphale whined when Crowley clenched down at the praise. “I want to--to make you--you’ll look so  _ good _ , carrying our baby--oh God, Crowley!” 

Their previously slow speed began to devolve into something more rapid and desperate as they both reached their peaks. Aziraphale, ever mindful of Crowly’s pleasure trailed a hand down his chest and belly to grind his palm against Crowley’s clit. Not that it was strictly necessary; Crowley was going to come from the wet slide of Aziraphale inside him anyway. He forced his eyes to open and his head to fall back so he could both be as close to the angel as possible, and watch the moment when Aziraphale filled him with his come. 

“An-gel,” he gasped, watching the way each thrust made a little come ooze from his swollen cunt. “Angel I-- _ please _ come with me-- _ Come with me!” _

Divine Ecstasy, or something close to it, shot through him in blinding waves as he came. Aziraphale shouted as well, wordlessly clinging to Crowley and once again coming inside him. Crowley was shaking violently, his eyes rolled back and it looked almost  _ violent  _ even though it was exactly the opposite. He was carried away inside his mind and all he could feel was pleasure and love and peaceful, beautiful completion. 

When he came back to himself his face was pressed into the pillows and he was making the most embarrassing little noises with each breath. Behind him Aziraphale was mumbling little nonsense phrases peppered with praise. Crowley focused in on that even though his body wanted him to focus on the fullness he could feel down below and the fact that Aziraphale wasn’t pulling out. He must have remembered from a few days ago, when Crowley complained and that send a thrill of confused, loving arousal through him.

“Ngh,” he forced out weakly, just to let Aziraphale know he was conscious and alright, more than alright even. “Az…?”

“M’here, Crowley, I’ve got you.” The demon sagged and flopped a hand down to his stomach over the concave expanse of his hips. Some strange emotions welled up inside him and he found himself crying  _ again _ . Aziraphale must have heard the sniffles because he turned Crowley around and tucked him underneath his chin. “Shh, dear, it’s alright.”

“I’m OK.” He was, really. Things were just getting away from him a little bit. “M’happy and I love you.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale smile against his temple. “Oh good. I-I,” a pause while the angel took a deep breath, “I thought I was going to lose you again Crowley. First during our fight and then when Heaven and Hell showed up on our doorstep.”

“Me too,” Crowley whispered, tilting his head up. “I thought I fucked everything up and you were going to leave me, and then  _ they _ showed up and--” Aziraphale quieted him with a kiss, hummingbird quick and soft. 

“I know dear, I felt the same. But it’s ok now, and I’m sorry for pushing you before. I think--I believe I understand what you were worried about a little bit better.”

Crowley made a little noise of contentment and settled back down onto Aziraphale’s chest. “S’ok, it all worked out in the end.” He took one of Aziraphale’s hand and held it over his belly. “Besides, you know our kid’s gonna be half-demon right? You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“They’ll be half-angel too, you know,” Aziraphale laughed, flattening out his hand over Crowley’s non-existent belly. “They’ll be something completely new.”

“Something we made,” Crowley agreed. “Can you believe it? I don’t think I can.”

Aziraphale’s hand wandered down, past Crowley’s stomach to between his legs. It was too sensitive, and just sensitive enough. Crowley whimpered pathetically and clung to his angel’s shoulders, not sure if he should pull away or try to get closer. 

“Well my dear, I guess I haven’t done my job well enough then, have I? I’d better work a little harder to get you do believe it.” Limp with overstimulation, Crowley could only moan and take everything Aziraphale give him, which he did gladly. 


	5. Chapter 5

3 days later, they finally wore each other out. By the end of the last day Crowley was practically incapable of speaking and Aziraphale was a jittering mass of sensation. They stopped when the mutual shaking of their bodies made it nearly impossible to continue. Shortly thereafter, they both fell asleep after a very half-hearted miracle from the demon to clean things up. Crowley couldn’t have cared less himself but knew the angel would be very uncomfortable and upset when the woke up if they didn’t get clean. It was the least he could do, after innumerable orgasms. 

Crowley’s sleep was deep and dreamless which was rare for him. Even all those times when he napped away months and decades there had been frequent strange--sometimes upsetting--dreams that forced him awake. It was probably one of the reasons those naps lasted so long; it was hard to feel rested if you can’t actually rest. But this time Crowley was out like one of Aziraphale’s Heavenly lights for just two days, practically a catnap, and when he woke he felt hazy, but rejuvenated. 

With a satisfied sigh and a great big stretch, Crowley burrowed under to covers, a stupid smile on his face. He felt  _ fantastic _ , especially since his sleep had let him skip any muscle soreness. All that was left was the pleasant buzzing of a very satisfied libido. Again he reached down to touch his lower belly, something akin to giddy nervousness. Would he know right away? Or would he have to wait like any old human? It wasn’t like there was a president. 

In the end he didn’t spend too much time luxuriating in their bed. Mostly because he could hear Aziraphale downstairs and the idea of getting some morning snuggles--even if it was nearly noon--appealed to him greatly. The getting up and getting dressed part was only a little tricky; even after three days his legs still felt a little wobbly, but in the end he managed it without using a miracle. Comfy clothes in place Crowley made a quick pit stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, then meandered down the stairs into the living room where he knew Aziraphale would be curled up with a book and a cuppa. 

“Hello dearest,” Aziraphale greeted, setting his book aside to pat the couch beside him. Crowley folded himself into the space and over the angel’s lap. “Did you have a good rest?”

Crowley nodded making a grabbing gesture for Aziraphale’s cup of tea, which he was passed very without complaint. Contrary to his taste in coffee, Crowley liked his tea very sweet and milky, which luckily lined up with his lover’s tastes exactly. He handed the cup back to Aziraphale and nuzzled further into the angel’s shoulder. “Lunch?”

Aziraphale wiggled happily, setting the tea aside with his book and drawing Crowley in closer. “I heard that the pub in town has been getting very fresh produce this summer and have been using it to make the most delicious tea sandwiches.”

“Sounds good angel, they have that cider too, yeah? The kind with ginger in it?” The sandwiches he could take or leave, and usually he’d give his portion to Aziraphale just to watch him enjoy them. Alcohol though was always something he enjoyed. 

“Yes, but I think we should be avoiding that now, shouldn't we?” Crowley frowned in confusion for a few seconds before he groaned. 

“Aziraphale… We don’t even know if its--If I’m--” He was really going to have to get over this inability to talk about  _ it. _

“Still, it’s good to get into the habit, and I’m sure they have some lovely non-alcoholic drinks we can enjoy.”

“We? S’not like you can’t drink,” he groused, fiddling with the buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat, thoroughly prepared to throw himself into an epic sulk. 

Aziraphale made a considering noise. “It wouldn’t be fair though, would it? I don’t think I’d feel right, indulging while you can’t.” That made him feel… something. Grateful maybe? Or embarrassed. Either way it calmed him down enough to avert a really moody disaster. Curse Aziraphale for being so attentive and sweet and not giving Crowley any reason to have a really good brood. 

“Fine. But I’m ordering the most expensive, most complicated drink they have. And I might even send it back,” Crowley grumped. Aziraphale giggled and pressed a kiss to the demon’s sleep-mussed hair, which was entirely too pleasant for the simple gesture it was. It made Crowley want to turn into a snake and curl up in the angel’s lap and forget about going for lunch. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, my dear. Shall we get ready to go? I’m sure you don’t want to go out in your loungewear.” It was Crowley’s turn to laugh and plant a kiss on the angel’s cheek with an exasperated eye-roll.

“They’re trackies angel, not loungewear. You’re such an old man.” He still didn’t get off the sofa though. “No idea why I want to have your k-kid, to be honest.”

“Love probably has something to do with it,” Aziraphale teased lightly. Crowley grumbled but didn’t deny anything. Not like he could have, with how badly he was blushing. Damn these human corporations and their vascular systems. 

“Shut up,” he groused, snuggling further into the warmth and softness of his lover’s well-worn jacket. “When do you want to leave?” Crowley knew it was best to let the angel set the pace, lest Aziraphale get himself into a tizzy.

Aziraphale considered briefly before nodding decisively. “I think I’d like to remain here for a little while, if that’s alright. I’m enjoying just sitting here with you.”

“Mmm, fine with me. You’re warm.” His snakey nature shone through in moments like this, and Crowley had the secret suspicion that Aziraphale had been gradually increasing his natural body temperature since they had begun living together to cater to his reptilian side. He couldn’t find the will to complain about it. 

“Splendid. We’ll head out in a little bit.” Aziraphale used the hand not around Crowley’s shoulders to reclaim his tea and they took turns sipping. If the tea lasted longer than it really should have between them, Crowley was willing to let it slide because it gave him more time to cuddle up to his angel. Miraculously, the pub would have a large number of tea sandwiches still ready and fresh when they got there, despite the fact they regularly sold out. 

* * *

The next 2 months were a flurry of sex, cuddling, and preparation for Pulcifer-Device child number three. They were eventually forced to stop their near-constant state of being in bed or recovering from being in bed to watch Lottie and Annabella while Anathema and Newt made final preparations--and got as much sleep as possible before--their newest addition. Luckily their South Downs cottage was already equipped with a room specially made for the girls and they were both more than prepared to watch them for at least a week at a time. Though they still paniced occasionally becuause raising the Anti-Christ was one thing, especially since they really hadn’t been raising him so much as influence. Taking care of and watching over two little girls who they were  _ invested  _ in was entirely another. 

In the final week before Anathema was due Aziraphale had offered to have Lottie and Bella stay over at the cottage until the baby arrived. Anathema had readily agreed--probably desperate to get some rest before the big day--and Newt had brought them and all of their supplies over. As far as they knew, this was just another fun trip to spend some time with their uncles, and not a brief respite for their parents. Crowley did not envy Anathema and Newt having to deal with two children under 5 all the time.

“Crowley, why are the girls eating ice cream for breakfast?” Aziraphale asked as he strolled into the kitchen on the second day. Both Annabella and Charlotte had heaping servings of chocolate ice cream in front of them, and on them, and on the table. It was an impressive mess. Crowley glanced up from where he’d been scrolling through his phone and shrugged. 

“They asked for it. Figured after the tummy aches set in they’ll never ask again, or this’ll be one of those “fantastic childhood memories” humans like so much.” Aziraphale tutted and snapped, changing the bowls of ice cream to whole wheat pancakes and fruit. Lottie sighed dramatically but didn’t complain too much because the angel had made sure to stack her plate high with strawberries, which were her favourite. Bella on the other hand was only three and  _ did not _ appreciate her sugary feast being replaced. Crowley saw the subtle chin wobble and furrowing of her tiny brow and immediately glared at Aziraphale. 

“Big mistake angel,” he drawled just as she took in a deep breath. Aziraphale gave him a confused look before the situation seemed to strike him all at once. It was too late though, because in the next second she let out an ear-piercing screech that could have rivalled Beezlebub on a bad day. “At least the ice cream was keeping them quiet.”

“You can't give children pure sugar for breakfast, Crowley! It’s not good for them and I would expect you to know better!” Aziraphale near-shouted, wringing his hands this way and that as he hovered around his youngest god-daughter. Lottie was still calmly eating her strawberries and making a mess out the pancakes by squishing them up and pushing them off the plate. It was a far cry from the peace Crowley had created with the ice cream.

“You think I didn’t miracle away most of the sugar and other gunk before giving it to them? I’m not an  _ amateur _ Aziraphale.” Crowley rolled his eyes and stood, procuring a can of whipped cream from thin air and dolloping a fair-sized amount on each girl's portion. Almost immediately Bella began to quiet, but Crowley wasn’t finished. “Use your words, Bella. What do you say to Uncle Aziraphale and your sister?”

She squirmed and pouted before relenting. “Sorry for yelling.”

“Good, now finish your breakfast and then we can go to the park yeah?” She nodded happily and began to dig into her food. “And Charlotte for Somebody's sake stop making a mess and just  _ eat _ your food. You aren’t a baby and you don’t need to mush it up, do you?”

Aziraphale watched with wide eyes as Crowley completely diffuse the situation he had created. The demon could feel his nervous, unsure energy from across the room. He vanished the whipped cream--because he knew his god-daughters well enough not to trust them around it without close supervision--and gave the angel a pat on the shoulder. “S’not good to spring stuff on them like that angel. Besides, it’s gonna be confusing enough for them when the baby shows up, might as well let them have some fun.”

“I didn’t think--I’m sorry dear.” Aziraphale physically deflated. “I’m rubbish with children, aren’t I?”

Crowley sighed and pulled Aziraphale into his side, not trapping him in a hug just in case Bella’s screaming earlier had been too overwhelming. “You just need some practise angel. We can work on it.”

“No more sugary stuff for breakfast though, alright dear? Even if you do make it healthier, I don’t want them going back homing and demanding sweets.” Crowley supposed that was fair, though he might still sneak the girls a little something when Aziraphale wasn’t looking. It was only right, especially with how busy Anathema and Newt would be with the new baby over the next few months. 

“Sure. Are you coming to the park with us?” Crowley asked, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s jawline and taking in a big whiff of that familiar sunlight and book glue smell. Normally Crowley could do this for hours, basking in the fact that he was allowed to do something as absurd as sniff his angel now, but this time there was something  _ wrong. _ Aziraphale smelled off and  _ bad _ and Crowley jerked back, automatically throwing a hand over his mouth while sprinting to the sink. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, voice dripping with concern. “Crowley, what’s wrong?”

At the table, Charlotte and Annabella looked up from their breakfasts with wide eyes. “Uncle Azi is Uncle Crowley alrigh--ahh!” Bella screamed as Crowley heaved over the kitchen sink and threw up the coffee he’d had for breakfast. And then the remnants of the chips he’d stolen from Aziraphale’s plate the night before. And then, when there was nothing left, he kept retching and retching until he could taste the bitter-poison taste of bile coat his tongue.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said again, rushing over and holding back the demon’s hair to prevent any more sick getting stuck in it. “Oh goodness, what happened? Are you ill; can demons even get sick? Tell me what to do!”

“Ngk--shhhh” Crowley hissed, spitting the last of the sick in his mouth out into the sink and gagging at the smell. “M’fine, need water.” Immediately there was a glass of ice cold water being thrust into his hand and fluttering hands combing through his hair. The water helped with the bad taste and with the strange, unexpected nausea, but I didn't do anything for the sudden dizziness he felt. “Think I’m… I’m gonna pass out..”

The edges of his vision began to fade out as his ears began to ring. Faintly he could hear Bella and Lottie’s upset little voices talking over Aziraphale’s equally panicked one, followed by a firm grip keeping him mostly upright and the shattering of glass. Angel’s could be strong, when they needed to be. Crowley sagged into Aziraphale’s arms bonelessly and completely out of it. He wasn’t sure if seconds or minutes had passed but eventually things began to calm down and right themselves. His vision came back--when everything had gone fully black and reddish he wasn’t sure--and he could distinctly hear the sound of Aziraphale asking Lottie to get him Crowley’s cell phone from the table. It sounded like the angel was about to call someone, but who? 999 wasn’t exactly equipped to deal with occult beings passing out in their kitchens. 

“Zzzzira?” he slurred, wondering when they had gotten on the floor. “Wha’happened?”

“I’m not sure dear,” Aziraphale’s voice was shaking, clearly terrified. “You were throwing up and then you just… you just fainted. How are you feeling now?”

It was still difficult to string thoughts together, but Crowley knew he needed to for Aziraphale and the girls. “Hot, kinda sick. You smelled… wrong. Who’re you calling?”

“I-I’m not sure. I thought maybe one of our friends, Madame Tracy is a bit of a Jack of All Trades, she might know what to do…”

“Absolutely not. She’ll bring Shadwell and I don’t think I can deal with him right now,” he groaned, wiggling into a sitting position. “I’m already feeling better angel, I’m OK.”

“Uncle Crowley?” a tiny voice to his left called out. Both girls stood back a few feet, clutching at each other and looking entirely too worried. If Crowley thought worrying Aziraphale was bad, he was entirely unprepared for the way those scared faces made him feel. 

“Come’ere,” he said, opening his arms so they could each bury themselves in one of his shoulders. Aziraphale leaned in too, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist and pulling him close to his chest. “I’m alright, sorry I scared you.”

“You threw up and passed out Crowley, I wouldn’t call that  _ alright _ in any sense of the word,” Aziraphale murmured into his hair. “Can you tell me what happened, at least?”

Crowley thought for a bit, idly twisting and playing with the girls’ hair. “I was OK and then I smelled you and it made me feel sick, and then I was on the floor,” he explained, starting a more complicated braid in Lottie’s hair. “You didn’t smell any different than normal but it was just… not good.”

Behind him Aziraphale hummed. “I still think we should call someone.” Crowley grunted and refused to respond, hoping that if he didn’t acknowledge it that Aziraphale would drop the idea. Besides, he felt fine now, maybe a little weak, but in general ok. In front of him Bella squirmed out of his grip, wrinkling her nose at the smell from the sink. 

“It’s like mummy,” she said, pinching her nose. Both Crowley and Aziraphale’s head snapped towards her. 

“What do you mean, sweety?” 

Bella made a face and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Mummy got sick, when the baby was starting to grow in her tummy.” Suddenly, everything clicked into place and Crowley’s stomach dropped and fluttered at the same time. Aziraphale went inhumanly still at his back; no breathing, no heartbeat.

“Morning sickness…” Crowley wheezed, the plait he was working on slipping from his fingers. “Makes sense, the sensitivity to smells, the sick, the dizziness.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale squeaked. Crowley laughed a little, surprised at how out-of-depth the angel sounded. 

“Didn’t you watch over Eve in the Garden?”

“Yes but--!” Aziraphale blustered. “I didn’t  _ ask  _ about those things Crowley, that would have been rude!”

“Oh of course,” Crowley intoned. The only reason he didn’t roll his eyes was because he was worried it might make him dizzy again. “Wouldn’t want to ask anything  _ inappropriate _ .”

“Quite.” They fell silent again outside of Bella’s continued complaints about the smell. “Wait does this mean you’re--?”

“Yup,” Crowley answered his voice wobbling up and down in a distinctly freaked-out way. “Also, I need you to get a bucket, cause I’m pretty sure I’m about to get sick everywhere again in about 10 seconds.”


	6. Chapter 6

They ended up calling Anathema. She took it pretty well, and Crowley had the suspicion that she’d expected it in that weird witchy way of hers. She instructed Aziraphale to get Crowley into bed with some crackers and water, and for him to nibble on those until he was feeling better. Crowley complained that he almost never ate anything, being an immortal demon, but decided to try it out anyway, if only because being sick was a new and frankly frightening experience he wanted to be over and done with as soon as possible. And to his chagrin, I actually did help. 

Aziraphale hovered around anxiously, asking over and over again if there was anything Crowley needed, and fluffing the pillows, and fussing with the comforters. Crowley let him do it because who didn’t like to be pampered once and a while? Charlotte and Annabella had crawled into bed too with a few of their dolls and were currently reenacting the scene from the kitchen in great detail. It was honestly so domestic he wanted to throw up all over again, or maybe that was just the morning sickness coming back. 

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asked, once again re-fluffing the pillow behind Crowley’s back. “Do you need anything else. More water? Tea? A different type of crackers? I can go down to the shop and--”

Crowley leaned over--carefully so he wouldn’t upset the delicate balance in his stomach--and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. “I’m alright, but I’d be better if you joined us.” He gave Azirpahale a crooked, slightly fragile smile. To tell the truth, he was feeling pretty overwhelmed and more than a little nervous, having all this come crashing down when they were supposed to be enjoying a fun day at the park. Crowley glanced over at the girls playing at the foot of the bed. He needed to keep it together for them if nothing else. 

“Oh well if you insist.”Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed, then folded himself carefully into the space between Crowley and the kids. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

Crowley shrugged. “Happens to humans all the time when they’re expecting, you heard Anathema. Guess I’ll have to get used to it.” He was trying not to think about it too hard. They’d been going at it like rabbits for the past month with the express purpose of  _ this _ but now that it was happening Crowley was honestly freaking out a little bit. “You know, I think I did something to my back while I was hunched over that sink, you think you could…?”

“Of course my dear. Scoot up a bit then.” Crowley did, and Aziraphale began the massage. He hadn’t actually done anything to his back, but he knew his angel needed something to do with his hands and this sounded like the most mutually beneficial activity they could get up to with the poppets around. And Crowley had gone nearly 6000 years with minimal contact from well... anyone so this wasn’t exactly a hardship. Not the exciting day out at the park he’d planned but also not the worst day (though he’d live through the apocalypse and thinking Aziraphale was dead so his standards might have been warped).

“That’s nice angel, maybe a little further down, near the wings? Ah, yeah,” Crowley moaned happily, twitching said appendages in the not-quite-there space they resided in. “I always forget how good you are at this.”

“Wings?” Lottie asked, consequently losing interest in her doll and crawling over the bedspread to sit in Crowley’s lap. “You have wings Uncle Crowley?”

“Uhh.” They hadn’t exactly hidden the fact they were supernatural in front of the girls. Normally there would have been concerns about them telling other humans about them, but they were children who often said strange things. The few times Bella had said something of that sort to another human they usually wrote it off as the excited ramblings of a three-year-old. And Lottie was getting to the age where she was beginning to catch on that her uncles were a bit different and actually enjoyed keeping the secret. But neither being had shown the girls their more… ethereal bits so far because honestly how do you explain giant wings to humans who were only just out of babyhood? 

“Does Uncle Azi have wings?” Bella asked, stealing her sister’s doll and hiding it under a nearby pillow for later use. “Show me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. It would get rather crowded in here,” Aziraphale explained while simultaneously turning Crowley into a pile of mush with firm circular motions to the base of his spine. 

“Aw Hell angel, it can’t hurt to show them,” he said, smiling down at Lottie. Aziraphale sighed but Crowley knew he’d won; the angel was just as weak as he was when it came to the requests of their goddaughters. 

“Language, dear,” he chided before letting his own wings out with a  _ woosh _ . Crowley followed, careful not to knock Aziraphale off the bed. The room was filled with the distinctly dusty-magic smell of wings brought into the physical plane and both Lottie and Bella gasped. 

“Magic!” Annabella cried, forgetting her dolls and scampering over to grab a fistful of Crowley’s feathers. He winced and pulled back reflexively, which made her little face fall. Slowly Aziraphale took her hand in his and placed it gently on the demon’s wing, showing her how to be gentle. 

“Carefully, like that dearest. Like petting a puppy.” Bella nodded, using the utmost care while playing with his primaries. Lottie joined in as well, enjoying picking through the layers and finding the tiny, downy feathers hidden beneath. Crowley couldn’t hold back a tiny laugh as their hands tickled and prodded.

“Oh sure angel, keep yours out of the way while they muss up mine,” he joked, spreading his wings out more so the girls could see the iridescence of the secondaries and tertiaries. Aziraphale went back to massaging, really getting into the muscles where his wings met his back. 

“I’ll sort them for you later if you want. Besides, I think we’re both overdue for a little preening as it is,” Aziraphale chuckled, grabbing one of his own tertiary feathers that had fallen onto the bedspread and handing it to Lottie. “We’re both moulting all over the place.”

“Are you a bird?” Lottie asked, spinning the snow-white feather in her fingers. 

“Daddy says birds are for watching and not for scaring,” Bella added sheepishly, tossing some of the loose down into the air. 

“Well for once your dad is right, what a shocker,” Crowley drawled, earning a light pinch from Aziraphale. 

“Be nice to Newton Crowley. He’s a lovely young man, if you’d made the effort to get to know him.” Crowley rolled his eyes again but didn’t reply. He honestly didn’t mind Newt and Anathema. They were alright, as far as humans went, and he’d probably miss them when their short lifespans came to an end. But that wasn’t something he liked to think about too often--or when he was sober--so he made the executive decision to change the subject. 

“Are we still going to the park?” The girls both looked up hopefully. Not even the magical reality of wings could compare to the thrill of their local children's park (the one that had been put in suspiciously close to when Charlotte had been born. Crowley had the suspicion Aziraphale had had more than a little bit to do with it). 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, love,” Aziraphale answered. Crowley groaned and tossed his hair back dramatically. “Oh don’t be like that you were literally passed out in our kitchen not two hours ago.”

‘I’m fine now,” he pouted. Was this how the entire 9 (or however many months demon/angel babies needed to gestate), was going to be? Aziraphale being overprotective and Crowley forced to lay in bed doing nothing? “I don’t feel sick anymore and I ate all the crackers.”

“Please Uncle Azi?” Bella begged, turning her big, dark eyes on the angel and pulling off a pout so manipulative it made Crowley proud. He’d seen Anathema use the exact same look on Newt when she wanted a refill of her drink at the baby shower. 

Aziraphale’s resolve lasted all of three seconds before he nodded and withdrew his wings. “Fine. But only for an hour and only if Uncle Crowley agrees to spend most of the time sitting.”

The girls cheered, accidentally tugging at Crowley’s wings in the process. He discreetly disappeared them back into their pocket dimension and made a mental not to give them a once over that night. Monthly wing groomings were one of his favourite part of moving in together. Back before the Apocalypse Crowley had sometimes gone decades without a proper groom because demons did not--in any capacity--groom each other. Only when he’d seen Aziraphale and they’d been in the position to act friendly had he gotten a good groom in, and he cherished many of those memories. 

“I promise to take it easy angel.” He leaned back and rested his head on Aziraphale’s chest. “Girls why don’t you go get dressed while we get ready?”

Charlotte and Annabella ran off, though not before collecting the majority of the loose feathers from the blankets. Crowley watched them go with a smile before rolling over and spreading himself over his Aziraphale’s chest and shoulder. “Mmm, thanks for the back rub, angel. Really hit the spot.”

“It’s the least I can do, dear boy,” Aziraphale answered, pressing kisses to the demon’s forehead and cheeks. “You’re very cuddly, aren’t you?”

Normally Crowley would deny that fact until he was blue in the face, but right now in the bed, the sound of their goddaughters making a complete mess of their bedroom vibrating through the walls, he felt content. “Feels nice. Kinda surreal but, nice.”

“Nice is a four-letter word starlight,” Aziraphale pointed out, planting one final kiss on Crowley’s lips. “Are you sue you’re feeling alright?”

“Shut up and get me my shoes,” Crowley laughed, kissing back with fervour. “Give a demon a break I’m carrying some sort of Angelic parasite inside me and it’s turning me soft.” There it was easier to talk about if he made it into a joke. Baby steps. 

“Don’t call our child a  _ parasite _ ,” Aziraphale admonished with a gasp. “I suppose it’s too early to pick names, but what about a nickname?” The angel began mumbling to himself as he got ready, purposefully  _ not _ going near Crowley’s shoes. 

“Ngk,” Crowley choked, blushing scarlet. “Too early, y-yeah.”

Aziraphale smiled slyly. He was enjoying this, the bastard. ‘We’ll have to think about it, won’t we? Well, get a move on dearest, the girls won’t wait forever. Do you need a hand?”

“No,” Crowley growled in what he hoped was a menacing way. Not that it worked on Aziraphale. Crowley watched him practically flounce from the room, entirely too pleased with himself. He never had handed Crowley his shoes.

After changing out of his comfortable clothes and into something more appropriately suited for playing in the park, his third skinniest pair of jeans, shiny leather shoes, and a spiffy blazer covering a deep purple t-shirt, Crowley stomped down the stairs to wait in the entry, completely ignoring the commotion from upstairs. 

“No, Annabella you may  _ not _ go out in your underthings--and Charlotte what did I say about those scarves? One is plenty--! Oh bugg-blast! Don’t pull your sister’s hair!” It sounded like the girls were giving Aziraphale a run for his money. Crowley considered going back up to give him a hand, but the effort of getting dressed and down the stairs had left him a little lightheaded, so he decided to stay put. If he fainted again Aziraphale would make a big deal and probably refuse to let him leave the house for the next nine months. There was only so much he could do around the cottage grounds and he didn’t want to go completely mad. 

Upstairs things seemed to be calming down anyway. Crowley smiled as he heard one of the girls giggling, then Azirpahale’s answering chuckle. Somebody, he loved that man so much it almost made him want to be sick again, but in a good way. Feelings were confusing. Even 6000 years of experience didn’t give him any advantages. Or maybe Crowley was just a mess; that was also a distinct possibility.

“All good angel?” he asked as Aziraphale descended the steps, Bella on his hip and Lottie trailing behind him. The angel looked frazzled, but fond.

“We got there in the end, didn’t we girls?” he answered, jostling Bella and making her laugh. 

With both of them there it wasn’t as much of a struggle to get everyone’s shoes on and out the door. Crowley took Charlotte’s hand while Aziraphale walked with Bella. The park was only a few minutes walk and once they arrived both girls sped off ahead to clamber over the equipment.

“No monkey bars! Can’t have you nearly busting your heads open again!” Crowley called after them, locating a bench and sitting heavily. OK, so maybe he should have stayed in bed a little longer. His gaze shifted over to Aziraphale as the angel took a seat beside him and debated saying something.

“I have to say I’m glad we decided to come out after all. Best to enjoy these last few days of summer.” Nevermind then. Crowley wasn't going to make a fuss about nothing if the angel was enjoying himself. 

“Before everything turns all grey and slushy you mean?” Crowley hated winter. He wasn’t cold-blooded per-say, but he did usually run at a few degrees colder than most. Which made the winter particularly unpleasant. 

“We aren’t in London anymore Crowley, you know the winters here are beautiful,” Aziraphale remarked, procuring breadcrumbs from one of his pockets and scattering them for the birds. This area hadn’t had many pidgeons before they moved in, but because Aziraphale expected parks to have birds to feed (and there was no body of water large enough for ducks) there were now several groups of birds who visited daily. 

“Freezing. Wet. Full of unbearable holiday cheer. Sounds  _ lovely _ ,” Crowley drawled, conjuring up his own, larger chunks of bread to huck at the birds. 

“I know Christmas really isn’t your thing darling. Oh!” Aziraphale wiggled slightly. He brushed the crumbs from his hand and began running his fingers over his lips in excitement. “Next year, we’ll have a little one to celebrate with. Won’t that be exciting?”

Crowley grimaced to hide the strange way his face wanted to crumple up. “Guess so. You’re not going to make me do the whole “Santa” thing with them are you?” Crowley would never, ever admit it out loud, but the idea was… not terrible? He liked to give Aziraphale presents at Christmas, but that was because giving his angel gifts was practically ingrained in him now. And Christmas gave Crowley the excuse to go all-out more often than not. Would it be the same with the kid; would he want to dote on them as much as he did on Aziraphale? Maybe more?

“But that’s half the fun!”

“Sure, sure. Telling kids a great big man in a sweaty red suit breaks into the house and leaves them things is all well and good angel--quite demonic really--but what about what you have to tell them he’s not real?” He’d been saved that ordeal by Warlock’s parents, or more specifically his mother, who decided that six was a perfectly acceptable age to rid her child of that sort or silliness. She hadn’t intended to be mean, but Crowley had still spent the entire night with an armful of sobbing little boy.

“Hm, I guess that is a little bit of a problem. But that’s years away and humans seem to grow up fine believing in him,” Aziraphale countered, letting his fingers travel up to twirl around one of his curls. A few feet away Lottie and Bella had started making flower crowns. “Girls, what do you think about Santa Clause?”

Lottie barely looked up. “Santa Claus is a tool used by the capitalist government to force people into participating in the endless cycle of purchase and debt,” she answered automatically. “Daddy says not to tell other kids though.”

Crowley burst out laughing, knee-slapping and all. “Oh, that has Book Girl written all over it. And your face, angle!”

Aziraphale sputtered indignantly for a bit before sighing and giving a small smile. “I guess that’s one way to deal with it. Though Saint Nicholas himself wasn’t too bad. Had ale with him a few times in Greece.”

Within a few seconds Crowley had gathered himself enough to sit back up, now leaning heavily towards Aziraphale in companionable closeness. “Sure sure. Of course, you’ve shared drinks with literal Santa Claus.”

“Charlotte stop putting grass in your sister's hair please!” Aziraphale scolded, making like he was going to get up if she didn’t stop. Of course, she listened immediately, knowing that any further misbehaviour would mean the end of their park trip, but Crowley also saw her steal a few flowers from Bella’s pile during the distraction. He’d have to keep an eye on her at this rate. “That’s the sort of thing we’ll need to decide on, isn’t it. To tell them about Santa, or what to do about school bullies…”

Crowley groaned. “Do we have to talk about this now? For somebody's sake I’ve barely been... _ you know _ … for six weeks going by what Anathema said. Can’t we talk about all that later?” Not to mention he’d only known for a few hours and was still adjusting to that particular piece of information. 

Every once and a while since this morning Crowley found himself resting his hand on his stomach, subconsciously looking for a bump that wouldn’t be there for weeks, if not months. The idea that there was actually something growing inside him was as weird as it was exciting and for once, Aziraphale was the one moving too fast. Crowley needed time to process all of this but between the angel and the girls, he didn’t think he was going to get much.

“We can stop, if you like. But I do hope you’re up to having this discussion soon. I have to admit, I’m very excited, if a little nervy about the whole business.” Nervy was one way of putting what Crowley was feeling. A right state, too. He just wanted some peace and quiet on this nice park bench while he sorted through some stuff, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to ask for that without sounding like a massive arsehole.

“Nervy, yeah. We can talk about it in a bit?” There that wasn’t too bad right? About as non-committal and non-confrontational as possible. And if it was really a problem and Aziraphale  _ needed  _ to talk well then Crowley would just have to deal with it somehow because there was no way he giving Aziraphale a reason to be cross with him and force himself to go through this alone. “The little monsters will be gone in what, 2 weeks, 3 tops? We can talk then.”

Aziraphale looked like he was going to complain, but stopped himself. He met Crowley’s eyes through the lenses of his sunglasses and Crowley must have been giving off enough signals of stress that the angel picked up on them. “I’ve been pushing again, haven’t I?”

“A bit,” Crowley said with the best casual affect he could muster while simultaneously thanking  _ Someone _ that Aziraphale remembered from their last argument that he could be a bit pushy when he got excited. And that Crowley was not his usual cool, “water off a duck’s back” self when it came to this issue. 

“Sorry again love. I got a little carried away, what with just finding out and then you getting sick it’s been a rather big day.” Crowley’s head bobbed in sympathy then ducked towards Aziraphale again. This time he went all the way past casual leaning to resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. Luckily, his smell was either being blown away by the wind, or whatever sort of episode Crowley had been experiencing was finished. Which was good because he really, really wanted to sneak a cuddle in. 

“S’OK, I should’ve said something.”

Aziraphale hummed against Crowley’s hair. “At least this discussion didn’t end in you leaving in a huff.”

“Or you running off to get lost in your books.” Lottie had wandered away from Bella towards the swings, though Crowley was sure she wouldn’t be alone for long. She was too social for that, not to mention her sister was a bit of a clinger. 

“That too. How are you feeling now? Not too hot out for you is it?” Crowley resisted the urge to roll his eyes, all too aware that they had only just avoided another fight.

“Stop your fussing, I’m fine. Told you how many times now?” It was mostly the truth. Since the slight dizzy spell after the stairs he’d been feeling fine. He knew enough about human pregnancy to know that morning sickness was a common enough thing. The angel was making a huge deal out of nothing. 

Aziraphale tutted, but still squeezed Crowley around the shoulders where his arm lay. “Yes, yes, I know. You cannot fault me for worrying, I love you so.”

“Ngk,” Crowley answered, watching as Lottie helped her little sister, who had, in fact, followed her promptly, onto a swing. “Love you too, even when you bother me.”

They spent the rest of the early afternoon in the park. Eventually Crowley got up to help Lottie try out the monkey bars safely while Aziraphale took Bella home for a nap. Or for “storytime”, since telling a three-year-old to take a nap was just about the worst thing you could do. Crowley had agreed they wouldn’t stay longer than half-an-hour and that he would call the second he felt off. But nausea didn’t come back, and Charlotte managed to get half-way across by herself without Crowley having to intervene and everything was good. 


	7. Chapter 7

They got the call from Newt a few days later. Baby Boy Device-Pulcifier, named Alfred or Alfie for short, was born healthy and screaming his head off. Crowley, being the more tech-savvy of the two of them, managed to facetime the other couple so Charlotte and Annabella could see the new baby and their parents. Anathema looked tired, but happy, while Newt was buzzing around the background with excitement, probably annoying all the nurses to death. Bella and Lottie had  _ lots _ of questions, most of which were nearly unanswerable because they kept speaking over each other. After half-an-hour little Alfie began to wake up and fuss so they had to end the call, promising to visit as soon as they were ready to take the baby home. 

“M’a big sister?” Bella asked, her excitement obvious. Crowley couldn’t help but smile as Lottie began to pout.

“I’m still the  _ biggest _ sister,” she declared, stomping her foot. Aziraphale chuckled at her attitude and ruffled her hair. 

“That’s true my dear, but do you know what being the biggest sister means?” She turned to him with wide eyes, more than ready for responsibility in that way only children could be. Bella had lost interest and was playing a game on Crowley’s phone, but the demon made sure to listen in. “It means you have to help out  _ two _ little siblings and be twice the good example for them.”

Charlotte’s face scrunched up in concentration for a moment before she smiled with a determined look. “I can do that, Uncle Aziraphale!”

“Good girl, I know you can.” Crowley cleared his throat and cast a proud look over at the angel. 

“Nice one, Aziraphale,” he praised genuinely, though the sentence sounded a little sarcastic. Aziraphale beamed all the same. It was good to see his angel feeling a little more confident in his abilities to interact with the kids. Those types of things rarely came naturally to Aziraphale and Crowley knew he was trying hard. It filled him with so much pure affection it was almost disgusting. Almost.

“Thank you, love. Shall we go out and pick something up for the little lad as a welcome-home gift?” Their god-daughters cheered, mostly because they knew their uncles wouldn’t be able to resist buying them something as well, and ran off to get ready. Crowley was already thinking about all the adorable little outfits they could buy for the new baby boy. Maybe he could spend a miracle to make sure a few of them would grow with him, at least for the first few months. It’d been a shame when the girls grew out of all the clothes they had gifted.

“Are you up to some shopping Crowley? You have a much better eye for these things than I do,” Aziraphale asked. He ran a hand up Crowley’s arm and into his hair, cradling the back of his head softly. Crowley leaned into it like he always did, soaking up the touch like the touch-starved, heat-seeking serpent he was. Even 10 years of constantly being touched and being able to touch hadn’t removed that need completely. 

“Of course, do I ever turn down an opportunity to spoil the kids? And someone has to stop you from buying the poor bairn a completely tartan outfit,” he teased. Over the past three days he’d had 4 more episodes of nausea and 3 episodes of dizziness, but none as severe at the first. Now that he knew what they were and how to handle them it wasn’t so terrifying for him and the angel _and_ there hadn’t been any more fainting spells. This morning the sickness had lingered until noon before it tapered off and now he felt fine. A little shopping might actually make him feel better. 

“Fantastic. Do you think we might…?” Aziraphale trailed off nervously, but Crowley had a feeling he knew what the angel wanted to ask. 

“If you see anything you really like for, uh, ours, I wouldn’t say no to picking up a few things. Not a lot mind, but you never know when you’ll see something perfect,” Crowley rambled. He adjusted his glasses to make sure they were still covering his eyes. It was a nervous tick he didn’t think he was ever going to break. His slight unease was offset by the relieved smile and small kiss on the cheek Aziraphale gave him. 

“Thank you, my star. You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable though, won’t you?” Crowley leaned down to give the angel a kiss of his own, this time on the lips. 

“Sure, angel. Just don’t try and buy the entire baby store yeah?” A shrill cry from the room down the hall followed by Charlotte’s voice loudly proclaiming that she hadn’t done anything rang through the house. Both beings sighed and stepped back. Godparenthood called once again. Crowley was beginning to look forward to the girls going home. Not that he didn’t love having them around, but they were really putting a damper on his Aziraphale time. He wasn't sure if it was because of the baby or if he just really, _really _loved the angel but lately he'd had an almost constant need to be close to him.

Neither of them wanted to make the long drive to London, so they made the short drive down the road to the nearest baby shop instead, a little store called Cheeky Rascals (which made Crowley nearly do his own wiggle of delight each time he heard it). They’d gone here many times since the girls had been born, and were sort of known by the employees. Especially since Aziraphale was the type to gush to anyone about their godchildren. 

“So we’ve agreed. Two outfits and only one toy, since they still have things from when Bella was little,” Crowley repeated for the third time since getting in the car. He doubted Aziraphale was listening, too busy imagining adorable little jacket and trouser combinations. In the back of the Bently, strapped into their car seats, Bella and Lottie argued over who would get to see Alfred first. Crowley, of course, drove the exact speed limit with utmost care while they were back there.

“Aziraphale, did you hear me? Only two,” he repeated firmly. He knew once they got there the angel would start to get carried away with the excitement of it all. Crowley didn’t feel like wrangling a flightly angel and two children at the same time, but it looked like that was going to be the case. 

“Of course dear,” Aziraphale answered distractedly, like he hadn’t actually heard what Crowley said. The demon sighed and committed himself to a much less relaxing evening than he’d initially expected. 

“Just, try to keep it within reason, ” he begged as they pulled into the store parking lot. They each took charge of getting one of the kids out of their seatbelts and ferrying them safely through the lot and into the store. Inside was an assault of baby blue and pink, a small section of more neutral yellow, and entirely too many plush toys. 

“Ok girls, why don’t we go pick something out for your new brother?” Aziraphale asked leading them down the isles into the clothing section. He waved at the clerk behind the counter, who waved back and cooed at the girls as they passed, remarking on how big they were getting. Crowley was sure she thought they were he and Azirapahle’s kids, and no explaining that they were their godchildren would convince her otherwise. 

Crowley decided to leave them to it for a few minutes while he looked around for gift for the newborn hmself. He knew Anathema came from money, and could probably afford anything she and Newt wanted for their new baby, but he prided himself in finding  _ the perfect _ gift for each child. Quickly striding through the stroller and car seat section he came to the toys. 

The selection was overwhelming. There were soft toys, talking toys, glowing toys, and toys that did all three. He’d given Lottie a stuffed puppy that she still refused to leave the house without. For Bella he’d picked out a teddy bear that glowed slightly when you squeezed it that had made her frequent night-time worries much less frequent. Crowley needed to find something similar for the new one, which was going to be a little bit of a challenge since he hadn’t actually met the kid yet. Relying almost entirely on his Demonic Luck (which, if asked, he would deny having and instead have called it skill), he scanned the shelves, waiting for something to jump out at him. 

After a few minutes of fruitless browsing, he Felt something as he passed a display filled with a variety of different plush pillows. He began to scan the piles, looking for one that felt right. Carefully, Crowley began to dig deeper into the pile, until his hand touched something. It was a blanket, barely four feet long, knit with a lovely cream base and accented with green felt leaves. Upon closer inspection it wasn’t right for his new godson; something inside his chest told him it was a little bit too dainty. But it still called to him for some reason and he couldn’t seem to get himself to put it down, like static cling had glued it to his hand. So he didn’t try, and instead bundled it up in the crook of his shoulder and kept looking. 

In the end he came across a caterpillar-shaped stuffy with extremely soft fluff around the head that felt right for little Alfred. His mission completed, Crowley decided it was about time to check in with Aziraphale and get to work on cutting down the probably dozens of items he and the girls had amassed. Surprisingly when he found them, still in the clothing section, they had less than ten in their cart, with Charlotte and Annabella holding one shirt each for themselves. The shirts both read “proud big sister” which made him smile.

“Found anything you like angel?” he asked, waltzing up behind Aziraphale and resting his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale had two teeny-tiny bowties in his hands, one a blue checkered pattern and the other solid red. “The blue one would look cute with those corduroy overalls you have picked out, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Oh, Crowley! You startled me!” Aziraphale said, shaking himself a little then holding both bowties up. “Do you really think so? I would have thought you’d prefer the red and that little jean jacket with the matching trousers.”

Crowley cast an eye over the mentioned articles and made a considering noise. “Not for him, I don’t think. It’s more, our style?” And it was. The jacket was that kind of cool-baby-chic that was very in right now, and the trousers had cute little tan patches sewn over the knees that reminded him of Aziraphale’s favourite coat. 

“I think you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the red bowtie aside sadly. Crowley snatched it up and set it at the neck of the outfit. It really did go well. 

“We could get it for us,” Crowley murmured, refusing to look away from the little outfit. He could picture a faceless form, a few months old crawling around in those exact garments. Or walking through St. James’ Park pushing a stroller, while the angel walks beside him, leaning down to fuss with the collar of the jean jacket, making sure it’s keeping its owner warm and happy. Embarrassed, he physically shook his head to bring himself back from that daydream. He held out the bowtie like it might burn him. “If you like it so much, I mean.”

“Oh really? I think we should. Something about it just seems very right,” Aziraphale gushed, putting the items in his buggy happily. “Did you find anything for Alfred?”

Crowley offered up the stuffed caterpillar in what he hoped was a casual fashion. It felt right, but Aziraphale’s approval of the toy was inordinately important to him. Luckily the angel smiled and nodded, saying that it was perfect. Bella and Lottie ooh-ed at the toy, each holding their hands out. Crowley didn’t hand it over though; he knew that if he did it’d never make it to its rightful owner. 

“Not this time, niblings. This is for your new brother. And besides, your mum and dad would kill me if you brought home and more toys.” They didn’t kick up too much of a fuss, mostly because they already had their “sister shirts”, as they had begun calling them. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat on a nearby bench, content to watch Aziraphale coo over baby shoes. This trip was far less traumatic than he’d been bracing for in the parking lot and it felt good to get to enjoy this in a weird, human way. Never, in all 6000 years of his life (and before that, the blurry memories of far, far Before), had he imagined he would be sitting in a baby store, shopping for his human friend's child (nevermind his  _ own _ ).

“Well what do you think Crowley? I’ve narrowed it down to five, and we can pick two from those?” Crowley was once again snapped out of his daydreaming to address his lover. All five outfits were perfect. Maybe he’d been giving Aziraphale too little credit before. 

“Let's just get all of them. We can save a few for his first birthday or Christmas and miracle them to fit,” Crowley answered, greatly enjoying the way Aziraphale lit up. Of course he knew they’d go home with more than they intended, but how could he deny his angel anything?

“Really? That sounds like a wonderful plan. We won’t have to make another trip out here for the Holidays.” They would though, Crowley knew. They wouldn’t be able to resist giving the kid some of the outfits whenever they visited, no matter how much they tried. 

“Sounds good then. Are you ready to go?” Crowley watched Aziraphale pause and go through his mental checklist. He was just about to assure him that they’d gotten everything they came for when the angel pointed to his side.

“What’s that?” Crowley looked down then felt himself blush. He’d completely forgotten about the blanket nestled in the crook of his elbow. “Is it something else for Alfred?”

“N-no,” Crowley stuttered, feeling more than a little flustered again. He’d kept his cool over the outfit mostly because Aziraphale had picked it out and he was only doing the angel a favour by saying they should buy it. The blanket was  _ his _ choice and that made it all the more personal and real. “I liked it, s-so I thought maybe…  _ you know _ ?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale had that look on his face that said ‘I know exactly what you mean, but I want to see if I can make you say it’. It was a look that was almost always followed by Crowley making a fool of himself as he tried to muddle through his feelings.

“Bastard,” he huffed under his breath, quiet enough that the kids wouldn’t hear. “It's for--for  _ our one _ ? Alright?”

Of course that earned a slight laugh and a large smile from his angel. “Of course, dear boy. May I see it?” Crowley handed over the blanket with a scowl, refusing to look up from the floor. He could head Lottie whispering to Bella about how his face was nearly the same colour as his har. “It’s lovely Crowley. The leaves--and this wool is so soft! A very good choice, love.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers across the woven wool with delicate care, almost like it was one of his precious ancient scrolls. Slowly he brought it up to his face, pressing the softness to his lips and humming in pleasure. Crowley’s breath hitched, his soul nearly undone by the simple, rapturous look on his angel’s face. “Glad you like it, angel.”

“I’m sure I’d like anything you pick out.” Did Aziraphale know what saying those kinds of things did to him? He must have, he said them so often it had to be on purpose. But usually, when the angel was teasing him he would get that look, so maybe he didn’t. It seemed impossible but maybe Aziraphale really did just… love Crowley like that. 

“Can we go now?” Lottie whined while tugging on Crowley’s sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

“Nibbles?” Bella asked, wide-eyed and eager as Aziraphale picked her up and placed her in the buggy seat. Crowley had taught her that one, mostly because he knew it would make Aziraphale laugh. 

“Why not? I’m sure we can find somewhere to grab a bite before heading him, right Crowley?” Of course they could. They had the near-limitless power of Heaven and Hell at their disposal, finding a place to eat was extraordinarily simple. Finding somewhere that served something both girls would eat, that would meet up the Aziraphale’s expectations, and had parking enough for the Bently was another matter entirely. But things had been going well so far, and Crowley was feeling quite optimistic for once, so he nodded and led them towards the check-out. Maybe it was possible to have a nice, relaxed afternoon with their little extended family, without any disasters.

* * *

Three days later Newt called to say they were ready for the girls to come back home, and if Crowley could drive them over that would be much appreciated. Crowley thought about refusing to make the drive, just to live up to his demonic nature, but in the end couldn’t resist going to give his present to Alfred in person. So he and Aziraphale packed up Bella and Lottie with their gifts and made the few-hours journey to Tadfield. Of course it took much longer than usual, since Crowley had to go the speed limit, but at the very least he was able to miracle to traffic to stay clear. 

“Ok now girls, you must try and stay quiet in case your brother is sleeping,” Aziraphale instructed as Crowley parked. “I know you’ve missed your mummy and daddy, and that you’re very excited, but it is very rude to wake a baby from their nap.”

“Yes Uncle Azi,” they both said, practically vibrating with excitement. They were both wearing their new shirts, and Aziraphale had braided their hair in an effort to make things as easy as possible on the new parents. Crowley expected that at least one of them would forget their instructions the second they all got inside, but he was ready to expend a small miracle to make sure Alfred stayed calm and not screaming through their visit. 

“OK, let's go, angel,” he said. He saw Anathema waiting at the bay window, waving happily with a small bundle in her arms. Newton was already at the front door kneeling down and opening his arms for when his daughters inevitably rushed him. Crowley watched with a small smile, especially when Lottie began to loudly explain their new outfits and Bella shushed her. 

“Isn’t that just lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the seats to rights and offering to take one of the bags Crowley was holding. “I know they love us, but there’s something special about the bond between parent and child, isn’t there?”

“I know lots of people who’d disagree with you there angel,” Crowley remarked, hefting the remaining bag over his shoulder. Aziraphale very nearly began to whine. “Oh hush, I know what you mean.”

Aziraphale harrumphed and gave Crowley a scolding look. That was a common occurrence in their household though, so it barely phased the demon as he walked towards the open door. Newt was braced against the doorframe, making a valiant effort to listen to both girls as they simultaneously chattered at him. He looked ecstatic all the same, and Crowley’s stomach did a mild, swooping dive when realized that in a few years he might be in the same position. The last thing he needed right now was to get all overemotional, so he looked away, instead focusing on sliding through the doorway without getting knocked over himself. 

“Hello Crowley, Aziraphale!” Anathema greeted eagerly. She was wearing one of the long flowy dresses she’d favoured during her pregnancy and looked absolutely radiant despite the fact she had literally pushed a living being out of her body not even a week prior. “Thank you again for looking after the girls for us, you have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

“No worries, my dear. The girls have been a delight. Isn’t that right Crowley?” Aziraphale said from over his left shoulder. Crowley was too busy staring at the bundle of blankets in her arms. He’d reacted the same when Lottie, then Bella were born, so Anathema wasn’t surprised. 

“Why don’t you come inside for some tea, and meet the little man. You’re very lucky, he’s just woken up from a nap.” She gestured for them to drop the bags in the hallway and follow her inside to the living room, where there was already a pot of tea, steaming and ready, sitting on tea-cozy. 

“Witches,” Crowley grumbled quietly, but Anathema just laughed. Behind them, the front door closed and the house was filled with the ruckus of Newt trying to get the kid’s shoes off before they ran into the house and tracked mud all over the carpets. He decided to take up residence in the wingback armchair by the fire that he always sat in when they visited, closest to the couch where Anathema had set down with the baby. The angle made it so he could see the barest wisp of dark hair peeking out of the blankets.

“Alright, here you go,” Anathema said suddenly, shifting over so she could pass him the baby. Crowley’s eyes went with shock, though he still held out his arms and took the boy from his mother with practised ease. "Oh don’t look like that, I know you’re dying to hold him.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, getting a good look at the little blob of pink flesh and linen. Alfred had his dad’s nose and his mom’s eyes, along with a startling shock of thick dark hair. Both Device-Pulcifer girls had been born with little more than peach fuzz, but he knew human babies came in all shapes and sizes. Aziraphale lingered over his shoulder still, making sweet cooing and awing noises.

“He’s perfect, Anathema,” Crowley said in an awed voice. “Shame about him getting Newton’s nose, but I’m sure it won’t do him much harm.”

“Ha-ha,” Newt groaned from the hallway. “Didn’t you say my nose suited Lottie when she was born? I seem to remember something like that at least.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale poked him lightly in the side. “Fine, his nose is… adequate. Lots of hair.”

“Yes, it’s actually quite shocking!” The angel sat on the arm of the chair and petted a hand against the baby’s head. “I’d forgotten how soft newborn hair is.”

“He’s a good sleeper too, only wakes us up every two or so hours,” Anathema said proudly. She procured a bottle from one of the side tables and held it out. “I was going to feed him, would you mind?”

“No problem.” In fact, Crowley was more than happy to spend as much time as possible holding the kid, though if he didn’t give Aziraphale a turn in a few minutes the angel might start complaining. Anathema nodded and passed over the bottle before standing a little stiffly. With a silent snap, Aziraphale took away some of her post-birth pains, though not enough that she would notice and start to put up a fuss. Crowley noticed of course, but he didn’t say anything. 

Anathema left them there to go greet her other children. The entire cottage was filled with so much love that even Crowley could feel the very edges of it against his demonic soul. The first time he’d held Charlotte when she’d been born he’d nearly passed out from how much love he felt for her. It had happened a few other times too, when Aziraphale had confessed his feelings a week after Armageddon, and when they’d bought the cottage. Bella’s birth had come as a surprise--she’d been 2 months early--and unfortunately, that time had been filled more with fear and relief than love. But now, holding this little bundle of happiness and innocence, Crowley felt overwhelmingly at peace as he watched Alfred slowly suck down the milk provided. 

A small gasp made him lookup. Aziraphale was staring at him and the baby with something akin to wonder and Crowley realized a large amount of the love he was feeling was radiating from his angel. He smiled and even though his sunglasses were still on he knew it was too genuine and too soft for his harsh features. “Do you want to hold him?”

Aziraphale shook his head, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and caressing his cheekbone as if he were something precious. “Not yet, my starlight. I’m enjoying watching you with him for the moment.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, feeling that familiar embarrassed heat creeping up his neck. It was bad enough he couldn’t hide how much of a sap he was for children, did his angel had to go and point it out all the time? He ducked his head back down to focus on holding the bottle at the right angle.

“Shh, don’t get yourself all in a tizzy. I only mean that it’s nice to see you so happy,” Aziraphale said as he planted a kiss against the crown of Crowley’s head. “I think it’s rather beautiful.”

Crowley was saved the indignity of floundering through a response because Bella and Lottie were being led into the living room by Anathema and Newt. Each adult held one little girl in their arms, depositing them down by Crowley’s knees with instructions to be very, very careful. He set the finished bottle aside and tilted forward, just enough so they could see their newest sibling.

“He’s small!” Bella squealed, her little fingers curling the blankets. Alfred wiggled and freed a hand, his itty-bitty fingers curling around hers. 

“Why’s he look  _ like that _ ?” Lottie asked. That forced a laugh out of all the adults.

“You looked like that too honey, when you first came out of mommy’s tummy,” Anathema explained. Lottie looked scandalized but quickly recovered when Alfred let out a squawk. 

“Is he trying to talk?”

“No, babies can’t talk until they’re older. Remember when Bella was little?” Newt asked and Charlotte nodded, though she’d barely been three at the time. “Well, babies look a little funny for a while when they’re first born. He’ll look different in a week or two, just like what happened to you.”

“I never looked like that,” she insisted, looking very much like her mother. Newt just laughed and gave her a kiss to the head. Crowley rocked Alfred a few times, since he’d begun whimpering more and more, then decided it was time to hand him back to Anathema.

“Little guys getting fussy, you’d better take him,” he said, handing him off to his mum. “I’m sure there will be time for you to hold him later angel.”

“That’s fine dear, wouldn’t want to set him off. Oh! Why don’t we go get his gifts?” 

Alfred loved his stuffy, just as Crowley knew he would. The little tyke quieted right down when it was placed next to him in his rocker. Anathema and Newt greatly enjoyed the two outfits they’d brought with them, especially when Crowley assured them they would fit for the foreseeable future. The girls excitedly showed off their shirts, and overall it was a very pleasant afternoon. They were invited to stay for dinner, which Anathema insisted they accept as thanks for babysitting. Aziraphale was delighted to find out that she’d cooked her mother’s  _ paella, _ though he admonished her for going to all that extra effort just for them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I needed something to do when Alfie woke me up this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” They sat around the dinner table and chit-chatted idly. Crowley made a go at some of the rice, eating around the seafood bits, but in the end wasn’t able to manage more than a few spoonfuls before feeling that now-familiar rolling in his stomach. He pushed his share over the Aziraphale, who took it happily, not stopping his conversation with Newt about the human’s new job at the post office. Crowley glanced over to the witch, worried his refusal to eat might be insulting, but she just smiled and shrugged. 

“I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as fish when I was pregnant with Charlotte, don’t worry about it,” she assured him. It was the first time all day anyone had acknowledged Crowley’s… condition and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he started showing, and  _ everyone _ who saw him would know. 

“Ngh,” he responded, shrugging himself. It was awkward, being  _ seen _ like that, but if it had to be anyone, the witch was probably the best option. “How long does this go on for again?”

“Usually just the first trimester, unless you’re really unlucky.” Which meant the was probably going to be doomed for the next however long. 

“Great. Bloody,  _ peachy _ ,” he moaned, resting his forehead on the table. Bella giggled and tried to toss a shrimp into his hair, though she was thwarted by Anathema’s stern ‘mom glare’. 

“Do you know how far along you are?” she asked, unphased by her daughter’s pouting. Crowley squirmed a little and wished Aziraphale was paying attention so he could field all these questions. But the angel continued to chatter on, oblivious to Crowley’s discomfort. And besides, Crowley thought, it was pathetic how often he was hiding behind his lover anyway. Time to buck up and not be a coward for once. 

“We think two months? Maybe a little less? It’s not exactly like this sort of thing has been done before so we’re not exactly sure of… anything,” he explained, tipping his head up so his chin was resting on the table. This was nearing dangerous territory. “For all we know this whole process could take  _ years _ .”

Anathema winced in sympathy. “I hope not. I have a few things leftover from Alfie, some tea and herbs and stuff that really helped me if you want them.” Human kindness always surprised him. He was struck with the urge to thank her profusely. 

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose,” he said instead, readjusting the arms of his glasses to make sure his eyes were fully covered. He didn’t truly need them here but without at least a few glasses of wine, he felt more comfortable with them on. Hell, he’d worn them for at least the first year when he and Aziraphale moved into their cottage. 

“I guess it is all new territory. I could try and do some scrying, if you want, get the general lay of the next few months. I can’t make any promises though, I’m sure you know this stuff is more of an art than a science.”

Of course  _ that  _ caught Aziraphale’s attention. “You could really do that? I’m afraid looking into the future has never been one of my strong suits. Everything gets so awfully muddled, you think you see one thing but it turns out to be entirely something else.”

Crowley, who had been ready to insist that he did not want even  _ more _ help, raised an eyebrow. “ _ You’ve _ tried looking into the future? I’m a demon and even I know that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Worked out well with Agnus though, didn’t it?” Newt chimed in, helping himself to seconds. “Rather well, if I remember.”

Anathema grinned smugly at the two occult beings. “Newts right, you know. Seems humans are just better at doing some things.”

“ _ Newts right, you know, _ ” Crowley mocked under his breath. The two humans just laughed while Aziraphale gave Crowley a swift slap to the arm.

“Crowley! Anathema has so kindly offered to  _ look into our baby’s future _ and you feel the need to act like a complete child?” he seethed with all the polite rage of a true Englishman. Crowley squirmed under the angle’s unrelenting gaze. Aziraphale quickly turned to Anathema with an apologetic look. “Terribly sorry dear. We would much appreciate any help you could give us.”

Crowley glared at the table, successfully chastised. It wasn’t his fault! All these questions about something so personal were making him uncomfortable, and it wasn’t like he could just  _ leave _ . Well, he could. Might do even, in a minute. Spend some time curled up in the trunk of the Bently as a snake. He always kept a few soft blankets in there, just in case. 

“It’s fine,” Newt said, amused. “I remember how moody Anathema got when she was preg--” Right! That was it. A pot he hadn’t known was boiling inside him bubbled over. Crowley stood suddenly, his chair making an awful screeching sound against the wood floor.

“Gotta--gonna go outside--for some air. Y-yeah, air!” he garbled, quickly stalking towards the front hall. Aziraphale made to follow him but Crowley threw up a hand. “Don’t worry, won’t be more than a tick.”

For someone who walked like they were going to fall over at any moment, Crowley could move rather fast when he needed to. It came in handy in situations like this, or when he wanted to practise his dine and dash skills. In less than 30 seconds he was outside and popping open the trunk of the Bently. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed no one had followed him, and then he transformed into a snake. Smaller than his regular form, but it had to be in order to fit in the boot. He slithered into the dark, warm space and flicked his tongue at the door, which promptly shut itself. There, someplace calm and quiet to cool off (metaphorically speaking, it was warm in the trunk). He’d just stay for a few minutes, not long enough cause too much of a stir. Then he’d go back and finish dinner like nothing was wrong. Because nothing  _ was  _ wrong. He was just overthinking and needed to spend some time not doing that. Only a few minutes, fifteen at the most. Then he'd go back.


	8. Chapter 8

“Was it something I said?” Newt asked as soon as Crowley had cleared the dining room. Everyone had gone quiet around the table, even the girls who had been previously chattering happily. Aziraphale shook his head with a small sigh. Though the  _ paella  _ still looked delicious, he’d lost his appetite.

“No, not really. How were you to know that he’s been so very… sensitive about the issue of our baby,” he said, hoping to assuage any guilt the young man might have. 

“I thought something felt off when I mentioned it to him,” Anathema chimed in, looking only slightly less guilt than Newton

“I should have warned you he’s been a tad flighty, it’s my fault my dears.” Aziraphale waffled for a minute because he wasn’t sure how much Crowley would approve of him sharing. Probably nothing, but that didn’t seem like it was going to be possible in these circumstance. “Crowley wasn’t fully on board to, er, start a family initially. But then our situation improved, and he changed his mind only I’m not so sure we went about things the right way.”

Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished he’d insisted they talk about things more thoroughly before getting carried away. It wasn’t that he was doubting that Crowley wanted to have a baby with him, not really, but more that the demon was still harbouring some anxieties about what that actually  _ meant. _ Even though God Herself had told them they would be safe, and their child fine, Crowley always had been full of questions and anxieties. Aziraphale had had a few moments of panic of his own, so he couldn’t imagine what kind of things Crowley was cooking up in his own mind.

“Crowley is very private. And for some reason he’s got it in his head that this whole matter is extremely personal. He won’t even talk to me about most things, I’m afraid,” he explained, trying the phrase things in a way that would cause the least amount of damage if Crowley were to overhear. “He’s been lying about the morning sickness and dizzy spells. He seems to think I don’t notice”

Anathema nodded along, still eating from her plate. Annabella and Charlotte had begun playing with their food more than eating it, though they remained reasonably quiet. “Doesn’t surprise me. It took him how many thousand years to confess he was madly in love with you?”

Aziraphale blushed. Over 6000 years, and at least 4000 of those he had also been aware of his feelings for the demon (more likely he’d felt that way from the beginning and not admitted it to himself until that first dinner they’d had--oysters at Patroneous’). They’d probably spoken more about their feelings in the past 10 years than the entire 6000. And even then they often left things unsaid out of pure habit. Perhaps that was exactly what Crowley was doing now, and really it was Aziraphale causing the problem by expecting something different. 

“I thought he trusted me,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. Suddenly he realized that he was essentially complaining about his relationship issues much more than either human probably wanted to hear about. “Terribly sorry, forget I said anything. I’ll speak with him later, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Anathema raised an eyebrow, clearly not ready to let this die. Newt seemed to pick up on her energy and slowly began clearing the empty dishes away. The girls took this to mean they were excused and quickly scampered away to their bedrooms, eager to get back to their toys. 

“Listen, Aziraphale. I’m not going to pretend to know half of what you two have going on,” Anathema started, her voice matter-of-fact, “and honestly I don’t have that much relationship advice to give, since I always knew I’d end up with Newt eventually from Anges’ book. But I do know you need to talk to each other. All the love in the world isn’t going to keep a relationship going if you don’t talk about things.”

This was the reason why Aziraphale loved humans. They could be so honest and willing to help, even when they didn’t have to be. “Thank you, my dear girl. You’re right of course, we’ve fallen into some very bad habits that are in need of addressing.”

Aziraphale stood to help Newt with the dishes, but he was waved off. “Why don’t you go see how he's doing out there? It’s been a while and we do have a dishwasher.” Aziraphale was doubtful of the machine's ability to stand up to Newton's general inability to use technology, but he was also grateful for the excuse to go check on Crowley.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again for making a bit of a scene. The food was delightful as always, Anathema,” he said. Anathema smiled and got up herself, most likely to check on the suspiciously quiet children. 

Outside, the weather was much the same as it had been when they arrived--warm with just a hint of autumn chilliness in the air. The trees were all still green for the most part, though a few had started to yellow at the edges. Aziraphale was looking forward to the fall because that was when all of his favourite cafes started serving exciting flavours of coffee and cocoa. He shut the front door quietly behind him and made his way to the Bently, still sitting quietly in the driveway. 

“Crowley?” he called. The tint on the windows made it impossible to see into the seats so he had to open the doors to check inside. It was empty, which was only a little surprising; Crowley was a restless being and Aziraphale had expected he would go for a walk instead of hanging around the car. There was nothing to be done for it then, and he would just have to wait until the demon came back of his own accord. 

“I do hope he isn’t gone too long…” Aziraphale murmured to himself. In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to do one last check to make sure all the girl’s toys and sleepover items had been returned and weren’t hiding in the backseat or trunk. They didn’t want another incident where they got all the way home, only to discover a precious toy or favourite pair of shoes still tucked away. When he’d confirmed there was nothing in the backseat he popped the boot and went to check there.

“My word!” he gasped. Upon opening the boot he was greeted by several feet of black and red scales. “Crowley, what the devil are you doing in the car boot?”

Crowley’s body shifted, scales sliding against each other with a whisper-soft sound. Eventually, his head appeared to stare unblinkingly at Aziraphale. It was impossible for him to parse the snake’s facial expressions since there really weren’t any, and Aziraphale sighed again. It felt like he’d been doing that more than usual recently. 

“Dearest,” he reached out to caress the space between Crowley’s eyes, “are you alright? I have to say finding you hear, like this, is a shock.” Crowley’s head swayed up and down and he bumped his snoot against the angel’s hand, asking for more pets. “Is shifting like this safe for the baby? Not that I don’t trust your judgement.”

Realizing that Crowley couldn’t speak in this form and that he didn’t seem to want to change back, Aziraphale switched gears. “One boop for yes, two for no?” Crowley nudged his nose against Aziraphale’s hand once.

“Very good love. Now, are you alright?” One boop. “And is this safe for the baby.” Another single boop, a little more hesitant this time. “I trust your judgement, Crowley. Do you mind if I stay with you, or do you want me to leave?” Crowley gave him a Look, probably because there was no way to answer that question with their current system. Aziraphale internally cursed; he was so bad at this.

“Do you need some more time to yourself? I won’t be mad if you do,” he said, running his hands along the reddish scales that framed the snake’s eyes. Crowley nosed his face into the touch but didn’t give an answer. “I promise I won’t be angry if you want to be alone for a bit Crowley.”

Instead of answering, Crowley drew back and unfurled himself, slithering out of the trunk into his regular human shape. Aziraphale took a step back to give him space to finish the transformation, busying himself with shutting the boot after all of Crowley’s tail had cleared it.

“I dunno,” Crowley said finally, staring down at the pavement. “You didn’t give me one for that.”

Another internal reprimand. “Apologies, I’ll remember to next time.”

“Can I get a hug?” Crowley asked quietly. He was shuffling his feet and generally looked miserable. Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to scoop him up in his arms.

“You needn’t ask, lovely.” Crowley felt small in his grasp, his height not making up for the fact he was skinny as a twig. “I think we need to have a little chat later though, don’t you?”

“'Bout what?” The question was muffled and a tad whiney. “Nothing to talk about, just fancied a nap.”

“Crowley we both know that isn’t true. I thought you might want to discuss it at home though, where you’d be more comfortable.” There was no answer of course. Aziraphale hadn’t expected this to be easy. Personally, this was incredibly uncomfortable already, but trying to muddle through for Crowley’s sake. This didn’t come naturally to him, all this talking about their feelings, not after 6000 years of hiding. It seemed to him that even though they'd spent the last 10 years together, they really hadn't made much progress.

Crowley stayed silent, burrowing his face deep into the threadbare fabric of Aziraphale’s coat. The angel hummed tunelessly and shifted them from side to side slowly and rhythmically. This, at least, was familiar. This quiet sort of comfort was what he did best, and was often what Crowley asked for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to get them any close to talking things through. 

“Listen, I know that this whole situation is very strange and that you were uneasy with things from the get-go. I don’t blame you for feeling, unsure, about everything, I just want you to know that.” He was babbling, as he often did when he didn’t know exactly what to say. And as usual it seemed he’d stuck his foot in his mouth because Crowley tensed and pulled his head back, eyes hard and mouth grim. 

“I’m not bloody  _ unsure _ ,” he snapped, ready for a fight. Aziraphale could see Crowley getting himself worked up, could see this going much the same as that night two months ago if he didn’t fix things. Only he wasn’t sure how to do that, without knowing what Crowley was thinking. 

“Sorry, I--Crowley I just want to help! I-I want you to talk to me, so I can help  _ you _ ,” he pleaded, trying to push all his love and devotion and worry at the other. “Please, just talk to me.”

Crowley struggled in Aziraphale’s arms and wrenched himself free. “I don’t want your help! I don’t want you hovering, a-and  _ fussing _ ! I hate people making a big deal out of this!” He paced along the side of the Bently, his stride long and irate. “It was supposed to be no big deal, yeah? It’s not a big deal, humans do it all the time!”

Aziraphale watched him, afraid to say anything else since he’d messed things up so seriously once again. He felt like he was missing pieces, like he was on a completely different track at all times. If things kept up like this, he wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through.

“I don’t like being treated like an  _ invalid _ Aziraphale. I hate their pity, and yours too. I just want everything to go back to normal.” Crowley was winding down. Sometimes that happened, he’d run out of steam and out of words and then pop off to his flat for a few days. Leaving Aziraphale to think over and over and over what he could have done better.

“Of course you’re not--I didn’t mean to suggest--I only worry. It’s hard to see you suffering especially when you won’t let me do anything about it and I--”

“I don’t want you to worry about me!” Crowley growled, back on the offensive. “I hate feeling like you--like anyone needs to  _ watch out  _ for me.” Hands wrapped around each other, strangling fingers as the twisted back and forth. “It’s the worst thing, you know. Making you worried about me.”

Trying very, very hard not to reach out and comfort Crowley, Aziraphale mirrored the wringing action of his hands. He couldn’t help it, really, the compulsion to reach out and touch and make things better. But if what Crowley was saying was true, then that was exactly the issue. “You not talking to me makes me worry more!”

Crowley physically recoiled, like Aziraphale had hit him. The angel watched as the carefully constructed walls and barriers behind Crowley’s eyes began to topple faster than he could rebuild them. “This’s stupid. We should have never--”

“Don’t say that!” Aziraphale shouted, his own emotions getting the better of him. “I-I can’t hear you say this was a mistake, that our baby was a mistake. It’ll break me, Crowley, please.” 

“Fuck Aziraphale,” Crowley said, taking a sudden sharp breath, “I wasn’t--I don’t think it was a mistake! I was going to say we shouldn’t have come here, stayed for dinner. Do you really think I don’t--that I don’t want it?”

And once again, Aziraphale had stuck his foot in his mouth and jumped to conclusions. He’d made everything worse for Crowley and opened up another pit between them, all because he couldn’t bloody think things through. If one could discorporate from regret, Aziraphale would have been long gone. 

“Well I… You seem so miserable, and you won’t talk to me. I just thought you might wish things hadn’t gotten so complicated.” Apologize, you idiot, he told himself. Another old habit he needed to break. “I’m sorry for assuming things. This’s why I wanted to--why we need to talk more.”

The few seconds of silence before Crowley answered felt like years. He took a shaky breath like he needed to and wasn’t just pretending at being a human. Sometime during the argument, his hands had come to wrap around his waist and hips, like he was shielding himself from the harsh words between them. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he’d wanted to wait until they were home and they could sit down amongst their things and talk about this civilly. They could have even ordered in, gotten out some of the fresh fruit juice Aziraphale had taken to stocking up on, and made an evening of it. An evening that they could have remembered fondly, the point where they finally bloody  _ talked _ instead of bumbling through things. 

“I wanna go home,” Crowley said in response, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll be in the car, say bye for me yeah?” He was quick to turn around and climb into the drivers seat, slamming the door behind him (though not too hard, ever since it burned Crowley had be extra careful with the Bently). Aziraphale, frozen by the sudden dismissal, could do nothing but watch. 

It took him a few seconds to get moving. When he did it was almost automatic. He went up to the door, inside the house, and thanked Anathema and Newt for dinner. Said goodbye to the girls and to Alfred, told them Crowley said goodbye too, all with his usual smile. Aziraphale assured everyone that he and Crowley were fine, and that the demon had begun to feel unwell again so they’d better be off.

All of those goodbyes took much less time than usual, and he used the excuse of Crowley’s discomfort as a crutch to speed them along even further. In total it only took 15 minutes before he was back outside, standing at the passenger side door of the Bently. He didn’t even think of trying the driver's side. No matter how upset Crowley was, he wouldn’t let someone else drive his car. So Aziraphale waited a moment, until the Bently rumbled to life, then opened the door. 

Normally Crowley would rib him about taking so long to say goodbye, but not this time. They were both silent as he entered the car. It made Aziraphale extremely nervous, so much so he began to toy with the fraying edges of his waistcoat, endangering their structural integrity. Of course, he could miracle it back into perfect condition, but then it wouldn’t exactly be the same jacket he’d bought over 150 years ago. So halfway through the drive, he had to force his hands to be still by tucking them between his thighs.

Crowley’s face as impassive as he drove. Aziraphale tried not to glance over too much, but he couldn’t help it. Was Crowley angry? Was he upset? When they got home, what was going to happen? Aziraphale’s heart was pounding with anxiety by the time they pulled into the cottage drive, his entire being vibrating with it. Crowley still looked about the same. 

“S-so,” Aziraphale started. He was about to begin babbling, all the words he’d kept inside for the past few hours were going to come out in a big messy puddle and probably make things worse. But he couldn’t--he didn’t know how to do this. “I, ah, what I mean to say is--”

“M’tired,” Crowley mumbled, hands still poised on the steering wheel. “And I’m feeling a little, uh, my stomach’s all twisted, like a spring and I don’t wanna be sick all over the Bently so if we could go inside…”

“Of course! Let me--I mean, I’ll get the door and then make us a cuppa?” Much to his relief Crowley nodded and finally,  _ finally _ looked over at him. 

“Did Book Girl give you that tea she was talking about?” Aziraphale was surprised, enough so that he didn’t say anything about the nickname.

“She did, would you like to try some? It smells of peppermint to me.” He hadn’t expected Crowley to want to have anything to do with the things Anathema had given them, nevermind ask about them so soon. But that was good, wasn’t it? Unless he was feeling so awful he was willing to try anything, which in that case Aziraphale felt worse for not noticing. 

“Yeah, and some crackers maybe? If you don’t mind,” Crowley added, fidgeting restlessly. “We could, well you could read but I might watch some telly?”

“Sounds lovely dear, I’ll put the kettle on.” He wanted to ask if Crowley needed help getting out of the car, but he had enough sense to know that would probably start another argument. So instead he gave Crowley’s shoulder a squeeze, then got out of the car to go do as he’d been asked. At the very least it gave him something to do, opening the front door with his key the human way, bustling about the kitchen to prepare the tea, spreading the crackers and a few slices of apple with cheese from the garden around a plate. He could hear Crowley come in not long after him and settle down in their living room, followed shortly by the intro to Great British Bake Off. 

“Here we are!” Aziraphale announced, balancing two cups of tea and the plate of nibbles as he hurried to the sofa. One cup found its home in front of Crowley, who was staring resolutely at the telly, and the other stayed with Aziraphale. The plate he put between them so they could both enjoy the snacks. Crowley mumbled his thanks and sniffed cautiously at the drink, but he took a sip and didn’t wince, so Aziraphale hoped it was alright. 

Again silence settled over them. It wasn’t the companionable silence they often shared while having a snack and enjoying each other's company in the late afternoon. It was a silence of absence, of things left unsaid. It was as bad as in the car.

“Thanks,” Crowley said suddenly, much more clearly this time. “For the tea and the crackers. They help, sort of.”

“Happy to hear it. I don’t mind, you know. Whatever you want I’ll bring it to you,” Aziraphale assured him with a soft smile. The desire to move the plate and scoop the other up and hold him tight. “I’ll wait until you ask though, if that makes it better? I guess I do--I have been  _ hovering _ something dreadful.”

“You have,” Crowley agreed, taking the tiniest nibble of apple, grimacing and setting it back down. “I could’ve been a bit better about saying something though, I guess. I just, you know what it’s like,  _ down there _ . I’m not used to… this. Needing help.”

This time Aziraphale did move the plate and shuffle over so he was close enough to lean against Crowley’s side. Crowley leaned into him too and it made the tight coil in Aziraphale’s chest relax slightly. 

“I’m not used to playing things by ear. I may have gotten a little swept up in everything and gone overboard with my attentions. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, but I need you to tell me these things Crowley. I’m not a mind reader.”

Crowley sighed and put his empty teacup down before snuggling into Aziraphale’s side even more. The angel lifted his arm so Crowley could tuck his head into his shoulder. “You could if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

“What, read your mind? I would never invade your privacy like that!” Aziraphale exclaimed. The idea was off-putting, using his Angelic influence on Crowley in that way. 

“You’re too good for me angel,” Crowley replied with a hollow chuckle. “I’ll uh, try to say something next time.”

“And I’ll try to hover less. But Crowley?” Crowley made a noise to indicate he was listening, but Aziraphale hesitated. He wanted to tell Crowley that the demon deserved good things, that he deserved to be treated kindly. But that was probably too much for the current moment, so he held his tongue. Instead, he said, “You know I love you, right?”

Crowley cuddled closer. He always did, his snakish instinct to get closer to Aziraphale’s heat often overriding his unconscious mind. “Yeah. Love you too angel.”

The silence that followed was much warmer and more comfortable than the previous ones. Much more like their usual dichotomy. Aziraphale leaned forward a little bit to snag another cracker, which he pressed to Crowley’s lips. 

“A few more, then I maybe I can read to you? Or you can watch your shows while I read by myself.” This newly found peace after such a stressful afternoon was tentative, and Aziraphale was worried about breaking it by being overbearing again. 

Crowley, however, just hummed in agreement and took the cracker. Between dainty nibbles he asked, “Can we finish this episode, then maybe you can read something? This is the one with the durian and it’s hilarious. Unless you want to do something else, that’s fine.”

Would they spend the next however long Crowley was going to be pregnant walking on eggshells? What about after the baby came? “No, no, that sounds good to me love. As I said, all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything.”

“‘Kay,” Crowley answered, holding his hand out for another cracker, which Aziraphale immediately provided. They’d have to go out to the shops and stock up on some more at this rate. Maybe he could find a bakery nearby that made some fresh that Crowley might like better than the dry store-bought ones. “Can you get rid of the apples? They uh, they’re making me feel sick.”

In a blink the apples and the cheese (just to be safe) were gone and only the crackers remained. Crowley leaned up and placed a messy kiss on Aziraphale’s jawline in thanks, then turned back to his show. Aziraphale gave him a little squeeze around the shoulders, then settled in with the book he kept on the side table for moments like these. Things were comfortable again, and they’d talked a little. More progress could be made tomorrow, or the next day. After all, there wasn’t really any rush.


	9. Chapter 9

Things improved slowly. Not the being sick, or the dizziness, that was still rubbish, but between him and Aziraphale. Aziraphale was much more mindful of his hovering and Crowley was getting used to actually asking for things instead of keeping everything to himself. It made life a lot easier, even if it was uncomfortable. He didn’t have to pretend to be alright all the time for one thing, which meant he didn’t have to feel as bad about not taking Aziraphale out for meals and dates. He didn’t have to, though he still did sometimes. It was something that still kept him up some nights, the idea that he wasn’t giving Aziraphale enough anymore. If that was the case, then the angel hadn’t said anything, but Crowley still worried. 

His morning sickness hadn’t faded, though the tea and herbs helped in the moment. Most mornings and many early afternoons had been spent with a bucket at the bedside and Crowley’s head pillowed in Aziraphale’s shoulder as he took tiny bites of cracker and even tinier sips of tea. Usually by midafternoon he was feeling alright enough to get up and putter around the garden, though with the quickly changing weather there wasn’t much to be done for the plants themselves. And doing the raking by hand was a little more than he could manage most of the time. So he did what he could without throwing up everywhere, and used a miracle for the rest. 

About a month after Alfie’s birth Crowley was sick--no pun intended--to death of being laid up in bed. He wanted to go out and  _ do things _ again, especially with Aziraphale. There had to be something they could go out and enjoy together. He could have texted Anathema for ideas, but after the way he stormed out a few weeks ago… well it wasn’t high on his to-do list. 

“Angle,” he whined one afternoon as they were once again relaxing on the sofa. Aziraphale had his nose in a book, one he’d read and re-read enough times to have it memorized. “Angle I’m bored. I want to go  _ do _ something.”

Aziraphale hardly looked up from his book. “Like what dear? We tried going out to eat last week but the food and the smells made you sick. We tried walking around town and you nearly collapsed fifteen minutes in. I thought we agreed to take some time to relax, at least until you’re feeling better.”

“I am feeling better,” Crowley said with all the petulance of a 4-year-old child. “I didn’t get sick at all this morning, did I?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, and Crowley felt the beginnings of a victorious smile on his own lips. “No, and you were out of bed earlier than normal. I guess if you’re up to it we could--”

“Yes! Whatever it is yes just get me out of this house!” Crowley sprung up, his clothes magically shifting into the jacket and skinny jeans he usually wore out. Around the house he’d taken to leggings and comfortable shirts out of convenience, so it had been a little while. His trousers felt tighter than normal which made him wiggle his hips with discomfort. “Now. Let's go now.”

Aziraphale blinked for a moment, startled by Crowley’s sudden movements, but smiled fondly. It made something in Crowley’s stomach match the funny feeling in his hips. “You don’t even know what I was going to suggest dear.” The book was set aside anyway, it’s well-worn and well-repaired cover thumped softly against the wood. “What if I was going to say we should go to that town hall meeting being held in the village?”

“You wouldn’t.” Crowley narrowed his eyes, the yellow slits piercing and unwavering. “You hate those meetings just as much as I do. What was it you called Mrs. Thompson after the last one? A fussy old bi--”

“Yes, well. I wasn’t going to suggest that. Just teasing you dear,” Aziraphale interrupted, a tinge of pink to his cheeks. “I thought we might take the Bently out, down some of the country roads. Take in the Autumn leaves.”

Crowley hopped from foot to foot excitedly. “Good, good. We can do that, let me get my keys.” In his eagerness he nearly tripped over his own feet as he grabbed his jacket--the one Aziraphale had gotten him that always seemed to radiate the warmth his own reptilian body couldn’t. Behind him he could hear Aziraphale’s exasperated sigh. “I’m good, I’m fine. Let's go.”

They drove around for hours, Aziraphale admiring the changing leaves and Crowley enjoying the feel of the Bently’s engine rumbling smoothly beneath him. The back roads were completely clear, which may have been Aziraphale’s doing, he wasn’t sure, but it meant that he could go as fast as he wanted, his previously bland mood bleeding out through the shaking steel. There was something about driving that was so different from any other mode of transportation and pushing his car to the limit of its speed capabilities always gave him a special kind of rush. 

“Did you see that oak back there? What a lovely shade of orange. Oh and that maple! Simply gorgeous! I do wish I’d thought to bring my camera.” Crowley was only half listening because the road was getting particularly windy and he needed to focus. “We could have a picnic when you’re feeling up to eating more.”

“Mhm,” Crowley answered, taking a particularly tough corner nice and smoothly. A tingle went up his spine at the satisfaction of a well pulled off maneuver. “Sounds good.”

Aziraphale happily flapped his right hand in Crowley’s direction. “Wonderful! Hopefully that will happen soon, Anathema did say hers got much better after the first trimester.”

Crowley still wasn’t paying attention, but he knew that wouldn’t deter his angel from nattering on for the foreseeable future. Aziraphale could, and would talk for hours uninterrupted, especially on a topic he was passionate about. Picnics and food in general were definitely two of those topics. 

“Do you remember those little sandwiches we had last year, at that delightful bristo with the sunny garden patio? I know you say watercress is boring but you have to admit the bread really balanced it out. Anyway, I recently found this bakery the next town over and their bread is so much like the one from the bistro I thought I might take a crack at making a few sandwiches of my own. And wouldn’t that be lovely, making a picnic spread by ourselves instead of ordering the food. Even if we have so many wonderful options…”

Crowley let Aziraphale’s voice fade into the background, a familiar drone. One that he’d enjoyed for millenia and it was comforting in a way. Between the rattle of the Bently’s frame and the sound of Aziraphale’s voice he was essentially, exactly where he wanted to be. Exactly where he needed to be to relieve the intense boredom that had plagued him while he’d been basically house-bound

“--and we could bring a comfortable chair for you; I read somewhere that carrying a child could be dreadful on the back. But we could also do something else if you prefer, maybe a trip somewhere warm where those dates you still like are in season?”

Of course Aziraphale was always thinking about him and his comfort. Things had been easier since Crowley started asking for things and Aziraphale started offering instead of just doing. It made accepting the angel’s care less complicated if his brain couldn’t skew it as charity or pity. If he asked for it, then he could control it, control how much other people were involved. Sometimes he almost wanted to laugh at how stupid it was but it worked.

An unsettling wobbling feeling in his stomach made Crowley ease up off the accelerator for a few moments. Was it the morning sickness making itself known as they were easing into mid-afternoon? Because the name “morning sickness” was complete and utter bollocks as far as Crowley was concerned. It didn’t feel like he was going to be sick though. Move like a restless moving feeling. Maybe it was because his pants weren’t fitting right? He couldn’t think of any other reason for the weird feeling, so he pushed it aside and slammed the pedal to the floorboards once again. Aziraphale continued on talking. 

“--and a picnic would let us relax and enjoy the scenery, which I can only see a little of now. I do wish you’d slow down, at least on the turns darling. There’s so much we’re probably missing!”

“Trees, fields, idyllic countryside views. Not missing much we don’t see every day,” Crowley quipped, though he may have still slowed down a tad over the next few minutes. Aziraphale shot him a sidelong smile and reached a hand across the gear-shift to rub at Crowley’s knee.

“Are you feeling better? You’ve been rather quiet.” Crowley’s manic driving had taken them far out of town, so far they were surrounded by fields filled with free-roaming cattle. He let the Bently roll to a more socially acceptable pace because he knew Aziraphale had a bit of a soft spot for cows. The strange wiggling in his stomach continued, and he wanted to be able to pull over and get out quickly if he had to be sick. Vomit in the Bently was  _ not _ something Crowley wanted to deal with. 

“Think so. Stomach’s feeling… weird but not in the usual way,” Crowley answered. Just the fact he was feeling more talkative was a clear sign that the strange mood from earlier was passing. “Not like I’m gonna be sick or anything, so don’t worry about your trousers.”

Aziraphale laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound like antique teacups against their saucers. “Thank you for the reassurance, my love. Do you think you might be hungry? I know you don’t usually go in for that sort of thing often but with the baby your body might be craving things outside your usual fair.”

Another, more insistent fluttering feeling had Crowley gasping and bringing a hand to his stomach. It didn’t hurt, and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but there was something strange about it. “Think my trousers are too tight. They didn’t fit right this morning anyway.”

In fact, the button of his pants was digging into his belly right this moment and that  _ was _ unpleasant. One hand still on the steering wheel he tried to adjust the waistband with the other. It didn’t help. “S’like they’re too small, but these are the same ones I always wear. Miracle must have gone wrong.”

Crowley kept his hand on his belly, just over his shirt and under his jeans. And that was when he felt it. The wiggling feeling from before but now he could feel it against his palm too.

“Holy shit!” he yelped slamming his foot against the break and making them both shoot forward against their seatbelts (an addition Aziraphale had insisted upon when they began taking regualr drives together). “What the  _ fuck?!” _

“What in Heaven’s name was all that about?” Aziraphale asked, his hands still braced against the roof and dash. “You’re lucky no one was behind us!”

Normally Crowley would have snapped about how he would have known if there had been someone behind them because he was a semi-omniscient being. But this time there was no witty or snarky comeback because  _ something was moving inside him _ . He hadn’t done a lot of research about pregnancy--it was still a little too much for him, reading all that human stuff--but this had to be--it really was—

“They’re moving,” he whispered, awe and fear and trepidation colouring his voice. “Angle, they—”

Aziraphale’s hand immediately shot from Crowley’s knee to his belly, right alongside Crowley’s own. They both waited silently, breath held until there was another flutter. If Aziraphale had been a human he probably wouldn’t have felt it. The look on his face when he did made Crowley infinitely glad they both had heightened senses. 

“My word…” Aziraphale breathed, bodily leaning over the gearshift so he was pressed up against Crowley’s side. The atmosphere in the car was heavy, but in the way a warm blanket in the early morning is heavy--soft, comfortable, and warm. “Crowley that’s them! That’s our baby. Oh Lord, that’s  _ them _ .”

“Yeah…” For some reason his eyes were stinging. The Bently had put itself into park and was keeping the engine idle by itself, so he used his other hand to wipe at the quickly-forming tears. Up until now he hadn’t really realized, or he had but not all the way, that was their baby inside him. This was happening and Aziraphale was right there with him, just as excited and awed as Crowley was. “I didn’t know--little shit’s been dancing down there all morning and I didn’t--”

“Don’t call our baby that, Crowley!” Aziraphale complained, shooting him a scolding look. Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed.

“They can’t hear us angel, s’not a big deal,” he insisted. Another movement under their hands stopped their bickering in its tracks. Crowley grunted softly as the squirming intensified, then ended again. “Active one, aren’t they?”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said abruptly. He pressed his free hand to Crowley’s chest, just over where his heart was hammering away. “Crowley this is--you’re amazing.”

“No you,” Crowley shot back, laughing weakly. Tears began to streak down his face but for once, they were happy ones and not sad. “This’s real, isn’t it?”

He looked over at Aziraphale just in time to catch the possessive, loving look on his face. Suddenly Crowley realized that they both had a hand part-way down his jeans, pulled off to a secluded spot at the side of the road. Pressed close together like this Crowley couldn’t help but lean in, seeking the warmth and comfort and closeness to his lover. His sensitivity to smells had been decreasing as well, and so for the first time in a few weeks, he took a long, indulgent sniff of Aziraphale scent without trepidation. 

“Are you just realizing that now dearest?” Aziraphale must have noticed Crowley’s reaction to him because there was a little bit of teasing to his voice. “And are you sniffing me? I do hope my cologne isn’t too strong for you.”

“You smell nice,” Crowley squeaked as Aziraphale’s hands both shifted down. The one on his chest landed around his right hip, while the one in his trousers gently traced the very top of his pants. “A-ah, you—?”

Aziraphale hummed, his fingers dipping under Crowley’s pants. “Seeing you like this… it makes me want to have you again and again.” An embarrassingly garbled noise escaped his throat. “I love you so much. You are my everything Crowley.”

“Ngk,” Crowley moaned. He wished he could be as good with words as Aziraphale, a least when it came to things between them. Aziraphale was always better at the softer things, at being a good person, even if he could be a bastard at times. “We’re in public?”

“Not really, we’re far out from any of the farms and I haven’t seen another car for at least an hour now. But if you don’t want to, we can drive back and—”

“No no I want to, just let me—” he popped the button on his jeans open and sighed in relief. “Much better. You can keep going now.”

Aziraphale laughed again and his mouth was so close to Crowley’s neck he could feel the vibrations. “Better turn the car off then, hadn’t we? And maybe we should move to the back seat, there’d be more space at least.” But Aziraphale’s hand was still moving further down his front, cupping his sex in his warm palm. The tips of his fingers dipped ever so slightly between Crowley’s lips, a tantalizing tease. 

“Get your hands out of my pants then,” Crowley grumbled, making no effort to remove Aziraphale’s hands himself. In fact, he may have willed the driver's seat to recline a little bit more, to give the angel more space to work. The car shut itself off, and the music cut out completely, leaving them in silence save for their breathing and the sound of wind outside. 

“You don’t want me to do that,” Aziraphale sing-songed, pressing a little firmer with his fingers so he was brushing Crowley’s clit. “At least the car’s off, it wouldn’t do to be creating pollution.”

“N-no.” Crowley was answering out of habit, rather than actual understanding. He hadn’t been wet before, but that was quickly changing. Aziraphale’s touch, familiar at this point, always caused a sort of reaction in Crowley’s body. One that screamed  _ more more more. _ “Aziraphale, need you—!”

“I’ve got you my dear,” Aziraphale assured him, stilling petting with the barest pressure against Crowley’s clit and labia. “I can never get enough of you.”

“H-hedonist,” Crowley stuttered, ending in a cry as Aziraphale gave one firm press to his clit. Bastard.

“Call me what you want to, but I think you benefit from my overindulgences too, don’t you Crowley?” Crowle squirmed against the leather seats, wishing that for once he’d left the house in his trackies. “Well anyway, you don’t seem to be complaining.”

Crowley groaned, his hips bucking and twisting impatiently. Aziraphale tutted and put more pressure on Crowley’s hips, pinning him to the seat. He loved it when Aziraphale showed off his angelic strength. Crowley was better built for sneaking and slithering while Aziraphale had once been a warrior. Though it had been millenia since the angel had wielded a weapon of any kind, that strength remained and Crowley greedily hoarded the opportunities to experience it.

“Fuck, fucking get  _ on with it!” _ he whined. His fingers wrapped around Aziraphale’s wrists, urging them deeper. The crotch of his pants was soaked through and his slick was beginning to make his thighs damp and sticky. It was gross and uncomfortable and he needed more of it right now. 

“Oh very well.” Aziraphale pulled back completely which made Crowley’s eyes shoot open in shock. “Don’t look like that dear. If we aren’t going to make it to the back seat I thought this might be the most appropriate.” He settled back into the passenger seat and patted his lap. Crowley’s mouth went dry; one of his most overplayed fantasies from back before they were together was Aziraphale fucking him in the Bently. They’d just never gotten around to it. Until now.

He’d deny it if Aziraphale ever brought it up, but Crowley made a mess of climbing over the space between the seats and into the angel’s lap. When he settled down on Aziraphale’s thighs the angel was obviously trying to hold back a chuckle. Crowley glowered. 

“Like to see you do that with your trousers half down,” he grumbled, redfaced and out of breath. “Aziraphale, come on, don’t make me beg.”

“Not this time, maybe later. I would like to ride you, make you ask for my permission to come while I use you for my own pleasure,” Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers and both of them were bottomless, putting Crowley’s drooling pussy on full display. At least Aziraphale seemed to be just as excited, a messy dollop of precome pooling at the tip of his member. “It has been a little while and I must confess I’ve been thinking about it far too much.”

“Yes,” Crowley hissed, grinding down so Aziraphale’s cock rubbed against the full length of his cunt. “Wanna be in you, wanna give you whatever you want.”

Aziraphale grabbed his hips and stilled his rocking. “Right now I want you to be still and let me set the pace, alright? I want to look at you. Is that alright dearest?” If he hadn’t been seconds away from losing it, Crowley would have laughed. Didn’t Aziraphale know he could do anything with his body, that Crowley’s entire form (metaphysical bits included) belonged to him? Crowley hissed out an affirmative noise and stopped struggling against the angel’s grip. 

“Good, thank you love.  _ Thank you _ .” Aziraphale guided Crowley down, his cock catching against the rim of his entrance. “I love you, you wondering creature. With everything in my being, Crowley, everything I am, you are so precious to me.”

The praise would have been a little much if it hadn’t been making Crowley melt like ice cream in the sun. Loath as he was to even think about it, there were still times where he doubted Aziraphale, where he needed reassurance. Aziraphale was more than happy to provide those things and did so profusely. Especially when they were having sex. 

“Ngk—!” Crowley screeched as Aziraphale pulled him down those last few inches so they were hip to hip. No matter how many times they did this it always took a few seconds for Crowley to adjust, to get over the overwhelming feeling for Aziraphale inside him. It wasn’t even that the angel was too rough, or too big, he was just Aziraphale. And this was something he never thought he could have, but it turned out he could and sometimes that was a little bit too much. 

“Put your arms around my neck dear, there’s a lamb,” Aziraphale murmured into the demon’s neck. His voice was strained like it was taking a huge amount of effort for him to keep still. “Hold onto me now, I’ve got you.”

Crowley did as he was asked, locking his arms tight around the angel’s neck like he would never let go. To be perfectly honest, he might not; being attached to Aziraphale for all eternity didn’t sound too bad. And this way the angle was better, each thrust adding fuel to the fire burning inside him. Who cared if the leather seat was sticking to his forearms and there was probably going to be some significant staining, this was everything he ever wanted. 

“Sssssshit Aziraphale!” he hissed, his eyes drawn down to the space where they were connected. Everything was slick and messy, mostly thanks to him. “I wanna--mmm!--wanna kiss you, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t bother saying anything, which Crowley appreciated gently. He rather gracelessly flopped forward, his hips still driving into the demon even as he connected their lips. Somebody, the spark of Aziraphale’s lips on his was almost more intense than the sensation from below. Almost. Crowley focused hard on kissing back as much as he could without losing control and letting his corporation begin to slip. It wouldn’t do for his fangs to pop out and cut his angel. 

As they kissed their near-frantic pace slowed to match the slide of their lips and tongues. The feel of Aziraphale weighing him down and keeping him still as he pummeled up into him made Crowley moan helplessly against the angel’s mouth, powerless to do nothing but kiss back and take whatever Aziraphale wanted to give him. Crowley wanted everything and anything.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped into the almost non-existent space between them. “Crowley, God, you beautiful creature how did I ever--how are you  _ mine?” _

“Always yours,” Crowley gasped rawly. “Since fucking--ah shit!--Eden.  _ Since Eden--!” _ And even though they’d had a decade together it still made him ache with the satisfying completion of finally being with his other half. Aziraphale’s hands came down to smooth over Crowley’s chest and belly, pausing at the slight swell between his hips. 

“Are you close dear?” His tone was breathless and desperate. “Please, I can’t--not much more--”

“Yes, yes,  _ yes _ ,” Crowley keened, arching his back to get a better angle. “Close--need a little m--!” Aziraphale’s hand slipped down to circle Crowley’s clit once, then twice. That was all Crowley needed to come, a wordless gasp wrenching its way out of his gut as his muslces clenched and released. Aziraphale followed soon after with an unflattering whimper, like he’d been waiting for Crowley to go first and barely hanging on himself. In the immediate seconds afterward Crowley couldn’t help himself from nestling his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder and nuzzling. 

Aziraphale shifted so he was half lying on the seat, half lying on top of Crowley. One of his hands, the one that wasn't covered in various fluids, splayed over Crowley’s stomach possessively. 

“Alright love?” Aziraphale asked, his voice husky and sleepy. Crowley answered with a satisfied wiggle and a huff, suddenly realizing he was still wearing his sunglasses and they were terribly smudged. With a floppy hand he batted them off and onto the floor, where they’d probably be lost forever. “I assume that’s good?”

“Very,” Crowley hummed, returning to nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck. “Think all that rocking put them to sleep though, it’s quiet down there.”

“I can feel that. It really is quite extraordinary, isn’t it?” Aziraphale was petting his belly like some sort of dog but Crowley let it slide because it felt pretty nice. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Pshh, you were perfect.” As their bodies began to wind down the stickiness and general prevalence of sweat began to make itself known. “Not sure the Bently made it out unscathed through. The seats sticking to me.”

“I think that may be my fault. Here, let me.” Aziraphale snapped briskly and the mess disappeared. They were also both dressed, though Crowley’s skinny jeans were replaced with a pair of the comfy stretchy trousers he kept at home.

“Mmm, don’t wanna drive home now.” Crowley was very comfortable, and just a little (a lot) sleepy. “Think I’ll take a nap.”

“On the side of the road?” Aziraphale asked, like they hadn’t just had sex on the same roadside less than ten minutes ago. “My dear you’ll get a sore back all cramped up like this.”

Crowley grumbled unhappily and tightened his grip on the angel. “Then miracle us home. Cause I’m not driving and if you drive we won’t get home for  _ hours _ .” For as much as Aziraphale complained about Crowley going over the speed limit, he wasn’t much better at following the rules of the road. He’d learned to drive in a time before regulations and decided that there wasn’t much point trying to keep up with the every-changing rules of the road. What resulted was a strange mix of driving under the speed limit while completely ignoring most rules and driving etiquette norms. Crowley had banned him from driving the Bently outside of emergencies in the mid-’50s after a few hair-raising outings. 

Aziraphale tutted. “Such a frivolous use of a miracle.” But still, Crowley heard him click his forefinger and thumb. When he cracked open an eye he could see the eves of their cottage through the window. “Did that little trip make you feel better?”

“Much,” Crowley said, a smile in his voice. “You couldn’t just put us inside though?” He knew he was being a whiney brat, but he also felt like he deserved a little bit of pampering. Nevermind that Aziraphale had basically been waiting on him hand and foot for the past month. 

“Spoiled serpent,” Aziraphale said fondly, tucking a sweaty hank of fiery hair behind Crowley’s ear. “ _ I think _ it’ll be good for you to get up and stretch. Besides, I didn’t want to risk forgetting the Bently behind, I know that would set you off.”

“It wouldn’t let itself get left behind, it knows better,” Crowley grumped, but still he unwrapped himself from the angel and sat up on his elbows. With his shirt back on he couldn’t see the bump anymore, but he knew it was there. It was only going to get bigger too, and eventually no amount of clothing would be able to cover it up. The thought made him blush a little. 

“Are you feeling ok? You’re looking a little flushed,” Aziraphale asked, his brow furrowing a little. Crowley nodded and looked away; it’d be easy to blame his glowing cheeks on the return of his morning sickness, but he  _ really _ didn’t want to spend another week in bed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh, we’re not gonna be able to do stuff like this once it gets bigger, are we?” Aziraphale sat back as well, maneuvering around so he could shuffle over and get the door.

“I guess not. We’d better make good use of the time we have now.” Crowley squeezed himself through the open door. Immediately Aziraphale’s hands were back on him, one grabbing his hip and the other taking his hand. Crowley loved when the angel was like this, when it was like he couldn’t bear to be without him for even a minute. It soothed the still-healing edges of ragged want in his soul. After ten years of constant tending that wound had only just begun to scab over and it would probably take many,  _ many _ more for it to fully close. But he was getting there, slowly.

“Round two, after we take a bath?” he asked, leaning into Aziraphale’s embrace. The laugh that startled out of him was surprised and maybe just a little turned on.

“Fine, but this time I want to do what we discussed before. Is that agreeable?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled with mischeif while Crowley smirked slightly. 

“As if you need to ask. You know I like being inside you.”

“Marvellous. Let's get going then dearest!” Not the way Crowley had expected to alleviate his anxiety and boredom, but maybe exactly what he’d needed.


	10. Chapter 10

“All I meant was that maybe we should think about how we’d like to decorate the nursery!” Aziraphale said, wringing his hand as Crowley paced back and forth across their living room. “It’s not meant to be a  _ thing _ as the kid say nowadays.”

Crowley threw his hands up in the air, frustrated beyond belief. “But it  _ is  _ a thing angle. What colour do we paint the room? How should we lay it all out? Oh Somebody, do you know how hard it is to find baby furniture that’s  _ not _ on recall?”

He’d been storming around the hour for the better part of an hour, shooting down all the angel’s suggestions. It had all started when Aziraphale asked if Crowley had any ideas for the nursery. Did the angel have any idea how difficult it was to get all the necessary bits and bobs for a newborn? It wasn’t something you just did on a Sunday afternoon!

“Well why don’t we start with something small, like what colour you were thinking for the walls?” Crowley huffed, feeling sufficiently patronized. The fluttering in his lower belly had only gotten stronger these last few weeks, and he hadn’t gotten more than three hours sleep at a time because it felt so  _ strange. _

“And I suppose  _ you  _ have ideas?” he snarked, coming to a standstill in front of the angel. “Tartan, or maybe paisley?”

“ _ Crowley,” _ Aziraphale sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Crowley couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Aziraphale was acting like he was the one being ridiculous. “Do you think--and I mean this is the most loving way possible you must know that--but do you think maybe you might be experiencing a uh, a mood swing? Only you’re so very upset about this when not five minutes ago you were on the verge of falling asleep.”

“ _ Mood swings? _ ” Crowley hissed, resuming his pacing. “Oh that’s rich. Mood swings my arse!  _ You _ just don’t have any idea how much thought has to go into planning these sorts of things! There’s a reason I was the nanny, angel. Warlock probably wouldn’t have made it to his sixth birthday if you'd’ve had the job!” Crowley whirled around to face Aziraphale again ready to go into the finer details of purchasing baby gear and the nightmare that was car seats when he noticed the distinct wobbling of the angel’s bottom lip. Thinking back to the last thing he’d said, Crowley realized the line he’d crossed.

“I know--” Aziraphale started, having to cut himself off and clear his throat heavily. “I know I’m not very good at this Crowley, but you don’t have to be such a-a-an  _ arse  _ about it!” He was beginning to choke up, most likely from the fact that Crowley had been inadvertently raising his voice louder and louder.

“Angel I didn’t mean--”

“No I think you did.” Crowley stood motionless, all his earlier frustrations bleeding out. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, he felt his eyes begin to water. Maybe Aziraphale had been onto something with the whole mood swings thing. “I just thought it might be fun, picking things out together, setting things up perfectly. We c-could go to the store and get a crib and t-talk about what it’ll be like when they arrive…”

Crowley unfroze long enough to amble over to the couch where Aziraphale had been reading and sit down. The tea he’d been drinking before they started arguing sat on the coffee table was cold and unpleasant. He miracled it to a better temperature, along with Aziraphale’s own cup, and held it in his hands.

“It’ll probably be pretty hectic. Newborns are pretty needy,” Crowley added, gesturing for the angel to take his cup. “You might have been right. About the uh, the mood swing. S’a thing that happens to pregnant humans yeah?”

Aziraphale bobbed his head. “I only know what dear Anathema has told me, and from a few books over the years but, yes.” His voice was light, lighter than his normal tone which usually indicated something was wrong. “Of course it’s not your fault. Your corporation is causing you to behave in certain ways and you aren’t used to it. I’d be a fool to be insulted by anything so natural, just a minor side effect of one of Her greatest gifts.”

As was usual when he was really upset, Aziraphale began to slip back into old habits. Praising Her, deferring back to how he thought an angel should behave. It always made Crowley’s blood boil that even after ten years of freedom Heaven still have such a hold on his angel. It made him even angrier that it was his own fault for bringing this on again. 

“No, no. You should be mad angel. My body might be making things difficult but I’m still  _ me. _ I should know better than to let it get out of hand. You didn’t do anything wrong, you couldn’t.”

Crowley set aside the tea again and lifted his arm in invitation. Aziraphale ducked forward, his own tea still forgotten, and burrowed into the side of his jacket. “I’m sorry Aziraphale. You’re gonna be--you’ll do fine when they get here. We can work together? Sort of a new Arrangement, I guess.”

“I don’t like sleeping all that much, as you know. I wouldn’t mind taking the night shift, as long as you show me what to do,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled by the fabric. Crowley took a deep, settling breath, and then did something he’d been avoiding. It was obvious Aziraphale wanted and needed to talk about what was going to happen when the baby came and as much as thinking about that still made Crowley extremely nervous, it wasn’t fair for him to deny the angel continually.

“Good plan. And I--well we could go out and look at a few things. S’not like we couldn’t miracle it safe if it isn’t already…” It was true and Crowley was kind of embarrassed he hadn’t thought about it before. He could probably make just about anything safe for the kid if he tried hard enough. Just like he had with Annabella and Charlotte (it turns out, having small children running around a house full of historical artifacts, some of which were made with hazardous materials, wasn’t ideal). There had been no reason for him to fly off the handle like that and he’d have to try and be more--uhg-- _ mindful _ . “You’re really worried about doing a good job when they come, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer right away. He was snuggling even closer and Crowley decided to help him along, getting an arm under the angel’s knees and hosting them over his lap. Then he squeezed tight, giving Aziraphale something to latch on to while he was feeling so discombobulated. It seemed to help, because after five minutes of quiet the angel finally answered. 

“I don’t have the experience you do. I'm not good at dealing with the girls like you are, and I never know what to do when I see children crying or lost in the street like you do. It just doesn’t come naturally to me and I’m worried… I’m worried that I won’t be good at it at all and they won’t like me,” he said in a rush. Crowley let him finish because it was obvious that those five minutes of silence had been spent formulating his response and to interrupt would be to derail the angel again. When he was sure Aziraphale wasn’t going to say anymore, Crowley responded. 

“S’OK if you’re not great at it at first, happens to humans all the time. You think the first time I had to take care of a baby I knew what I was doing?” Crowley thought back to the very early days, watching over Cain and Abel--attempting to turn humanity to Hell’s side early-on--and nearly weeping with joy when Eve had come back to collect her children. “Besides angel, there’s no way they won’t absolutely adore you. You’re  _ you. _ ”

“I think you might be biased Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, but he didn’t fully deny it. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I tried using The Web, and it suggested trying to connect by, well, getting excited about the birth. So I thought we could do the nursery.”

Crowley felt like an even bigger arsehole after hearing Aziraphale’s reasoning. Of course, decorating the nursery was supposed to be something fun they could share together. Crowley hadn’t really thought about how Aziraphale might feel like a bit of an outsider, especially since the demon wasn’t big on talking about every little event. 

“No you're right. I uh, you know I don’t really know how to talk about this stuff. And now apparently I’m acting like a hormonal human, which is just  _ marvellous _ ,” he drawled the last word in a way that he knew would make Aziraphale roll his eyes. “We can start the nursery if it’s gonna help you. Maybe just a few things though yeah?”

That made Aziraphale’s head pop up, a slight sparkle in his eye. “Would you-could we maybe pick a colour for the walls? I seems like the best way to start, unless you have any other ideas?” 

Crowley did in fact have lots of ideas. He may have started bookmarking links on his laptop the day after he broke down and bought that blanket. But he’d also been intending to surprise Aziraphale with a few of his purchases, and he hadn’t picked out paint yet, so Crowley decided it couldn’t hurt. Besides, he owed it to the angel for how much of a complete tosser he’d just been.

“OK, yeah, I think that’s fine. I mean, not much we can screw up with a little paint, right?” Maybe a hundred years ago they might have had to worry, but humans were so much more clever about not putting toxic chemicals in their household conveniences now. Most of the time. 

“My thoughts exactly. It’ll be easy. We can just pop off to the hardware store pick out a colour, and paint! Surely you’ve painted a room before?” Aziraphale had begun wiggling again, is fingers winding and unwinding around the thin tie Crowley liked to wear. “I’ve dabbled a few times but you know I’ve never been very good with arts-and-crafts.”

“S’not arts-and-crafts angel, it’s slapping some goop on a wall and letting it dry,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. Aziraphale straightened his back so he could give Crowley a quick peck. Crowley tried to deepen it and follow after the angel’s lips but Aziraphale didn’t let him. 

“Oh good, shall we get ready to go then?”

“ _ Now? _ ” Crowley asked. Not ten minutes ago they’d both been on the edge of tears, and Aziraphale wanted to go out?

“Well maybe just a few more minutes here. I do so like being close to you like this. Close to both of you.” Crowley made a slightly disgusted noise. “Don’t be like that, I’m allowed to enjoy your company and the company of our baby, Crowley.”

“You’re such a sap.” But Crowley was enjoying it as well. While they’d been arguing the baby had been kicking up a fuss, fluttering about and making him feel like he was riding a rollercoaster. Now they they’d settled down, almost like Aziraphale’s touch had a calming effect. 

Speaking of which, the angel stopped pulling on Crowley’s tie and started rubbing slow circles over his barely-there bump. His skin prickled pleasantly even if it also made him want to hide his face in the sofa cushions. Never in 6000 years had Crowley allowed himself to think he could have something so domestic as sitting around on a Sunday afternoon, discussing paint colours for their nursery. As imaginative as he was, this was completely out of his range, which made it all the better that it was their reality. Whatever he’d done to deserve this, it was worth the millennia of waiting.

Eventually they managed to disengage from their comfortable cuddling and drive to the town hardware store. It was a little family-owned place, the kind where all the sale signs were hand-written and there was a little box with home-made fudge by the till. The little old woman stocking the shelves was thrilled to show them their paint section and to offer all sorts of advice and options. It was sickeningly sweet and by the time she left them to their own devices Crowley’s face was glowing and hot. 

“So, do you have any preferences? I was thinking something in the world of green, to match that blanket you picked out? Not that everything has to be matching of course, but having a little bit of a theme couldn’t hurt. And there’s something to be said for the classic blue and pink, even if they are a little overdone--” Crowley grabbed a random paint swatch and began pretending to inspect it closely while Aziraphale babbled on. The paint swatch in his hand was a depressing taupe, completely unsuitable, so he tossed it aside and grabbed another.

“--and it can’t be anything too bright, don’t want the little one to be overstimulated. But I also want it to be homey. Oh there are so many options to choose from, how does anyone decide?” Crowley discarded the second swatch as well--a strangely cool purple--and shrugged.

“Think humans mostly just go for the classics depending on the gender and call it a day,” he answered, possibly the first thine he’d said since they’d entered the shop. “Green sounds nice though.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and then took his arm so they could walk over to the wide variety of green paint options together. “I’m so glad you agree my dear, but just look at this! There must be one-hundred different shades of green!”

“Well,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at the display. Some of the darker and brighter shades began to rearrange themselves to the edges of the section, leaving a more appropriate pallet all clustered in the middle. “There, that better angel?”

“Yes thank you,” Aziraphale answered, giving Crowley a quick peck on the cheek. “We should have brought the blanket to compare colours…”

“It’s alright if it doesn’t match,” Crowley assured him, picking three swatches that stood out to him and holding them up. “If we do all sorts of shades of green it’ll kind of be it’s own thing, you know?”

Aziraphale picked three of his own and held them up against Crowley’s choices. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if they had your hair? All this green with the red, very pretty.” It did paint a pretty picture in his mind, though he’d been hoping their child took after Aziraphale more than himself. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they got his eyes, or his other snakey features.

“Ngk.” Crowley snatched the paint chips from the angel and held all six in a row. “Pick three or four, any more than that’s gonna look messy.”

He let Aziraphale hum and haw over the colours, though eventually his arms got tired and he had to set them down on a nearby table. As the angel decided, Crowley scanned the selection for a suitable accent colour. Since the blanket had cream base colour, and they seemed to be using it as inspiration, he picked something similar and brought it back to Aziraphale. There were still six options spread out in front of him and it was obvious Aziraphale was struggling to make a final decision. 

“Crowley which do you like? Because I think they’re all perfect and I can’t pick just three!” the angel lamented, wringing his hands and visibly deflating when Crowley added the cream swatch. 

“That’s just for an accent colour angel, don’t worry.” He arranged the paint swatches evenly over the table and gave them an appraising once-over. “I don’t like the middle two, they’re too similar. And that one’s too yellow, compared to the others. Do you agree?”

Aziraphale studied the three swatches Crowley removed and the demon let him. As was evident in almost everything Aziraphale did, change was not something to be rushed with the angel. Even something as simple as picking out paint colours could take days if he was left to his own devices. If Crowley wanted to help, he had to do so carefully as to not disrupt whatever system Aziraphale had mentally created for solving the issue. 

“I do, very good choices dear. Should we go ask that nice woman to mix these up for us?” Aziraphale gathered up the remaining swatches, shuffling them like cards. “How do we know how much we need of each colour. We should have measured the room!”

Aziraphale constant fretting was starting to give Crowley a headache (or maybe it was just another pregnancy thing because Crowley  _ never _ got headaches), and he hoped this could be wrapped up fast. “Dunno, let's just get a bunch of each and go from there.”

The women was more than happy to help them, though it turned out her husband was the one who knew how to use the paint mixer. He was a grumpy looking fellow, old and wrinkled and curled forward like a willow tree. Crowley braced himself for a tiring, cranky encounter.

“Harold, these two boys need some paint mixed up,” The woman said loudly enough for her husband to hear at the front of the shop. Slightly quieter, but not so quiet Crowley and Aziraphale couldn’t hear she added, “They’re the two who bought that old cottage out on the edge of town!”

“Oh are they now? Tore out all that lilac, replaced it with that tropical-looking shite?” Crowley bristled instinctually--his garden was possibly tied with the Bently for the second-most important thing in his life. But the older gentleman just laughed and clapped a friendly hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Good on you, place was a mess. And I’m all for lilac being good for the bees, but our Lizzie got stung after least ten times walking past to the park a few summers back.”

“Well, uh,” Crowley stammered, completely unprepared in the face of such outright friendliness. People were almost always nice to Aziraphale upon meeting him, probably something to do with his angelic nature and general air of kindness. Conversely, people  _ usually _ avoided talking to Crowley at all. He gave off some kind of aura that said  _ don’t talk to me _ ,  _ if you do something bads gonna happen  _ and he was usually happy with that. But the older gentleman seemed honestly  _ interested _ and a little thankful even; it threw him off. “They’d all grown crooked too, so they had to go.”

The older man nodded sagely. “And the yard, the grass was a right  _ travesty _ since the last owner move out, nobody had been around to trim it for  _ months! _ ” Crowley scowled in agreement and from the corner of his eye he could see Aziraphale and the man’s wife smiling. In the last decade since the Apocalypse, he’d managed to remain rather singular outside of their small circle of acquaintances. Aziraphale was probably going to make a big deal out of this later, telling the demon how happy he was that Crowley was ‘making friends’. 

“You’ve been doing good work up there these past few years, strange we haven’t met before!” the woman chimed in, passing their chosen paint samples over to her husband. “Though I’ve seen you around together at most of the local cafes and restaurants.”

“Terribly sorry we haven’t been by before, turns out the cottage was in miraculously good shape and didn’t need any repairs,” Aziraphale explained as they all watched the husband begin to mix together the paint. 

“But you’re doing some renovations now?” she asked, plying for more information. Crowley could see the makings of a town gossip in her, though he could sense her prying was more out of interest than malice.

“Yes, we’re, hmm,” Aziraphale trailed off, turning to Crowley. He realized they hadn’t exactly discussed if or how they were going to discuss the baby with strangers. Behind dark glasses he blinked slowly, then gave a subtle nod. Aziraphale took one of his hands and squeezed, his love almost palpable even to the demon. “Well we’re expecting a baby, i-in around five months' time. We thought we’d get a head start on the nursery.”

The old man nodded, more concerned with the paint, but his wife lit up like a Christmas tree. Her eyes flickered over them both, then to Crowley’s stomach where his hand had once again subconsciously come to rest over the small bump. “Oh that’s lovely! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale answered, practically glowing. Crowley blushed and mumbled something similar. “We only just decided on a colour, you have quite the selection here.” It was an effective way to take the focus off of Crowley, which the demon was extremely thankful for.

“Well you’ve picked a lovely shade of green, whatever inspired you?” Aziraphale began telling her about their newly born nephew and the trip to the baby store. Crowley pretended to listen for a little while before turning to watch the paint being mixed. The old man, Harold his wife had called him, was puttering away and had already finished with one of the four cans. The set up was made so customers could see over the counter and watch the way he swirled the paint before putting it into the mixer. 

“This your first?” the man asked. Crowley hadn’t taken him for the nosey type, but he supposed it made sense considering how his wife was. “We had three, but they’re all moved out with their own families. Lizze, the one I mentioned before? She’s the oldest grandchild, gonna be starting middle school next year.”

“Yikes,” Crowley cringed. Middle school had been one of his in the beginning (cliques had been too good to pass up), but the humans had taken it out of control. “And uh, yeah. I mean, yes, it's our first.”

The old man nodded. “She’s a strong kid, lost of friends. And we raised her mum right I like to think, and she comes to visit us on weekends.” He set the second can into the mixing machine as he chattered. “S’a little different than the others, the first one. Hope you two enjoy it while you can.”

He thought back to all the throwing up and the fainting and the general discomfort with a scowl. Then he remembered cuddling with Aziraphale and the girls on their bed, feeling the baby move for the first time, and picking out clothes together and it slipped off his face in seconds. Harold chuckled and once again clapped Crowley on the shoulder good-naturedly. After that, Crowley didn’t feel quite so uncomfortable and began to grill the man on his appreciation of plants. 

Soon all the paint was mixed and they began to check out. They both thanked the older couple, and Aziraphale even purchased a quarter of their fudge stock. Promises to stop by next time the two ageless beings were in town were made before they made it back out to the Bentley. Crowley insisted the paint cans go in the boot, where they had zero chance of staining the upholstery. 

“D’you wanna grab lunch while we’re here?” he asked the angel as he pulled away from the curb. The paint cans in the back didn’t make a sound, because they knew better than to misbehave. “Could go somewhere new, if we can find anywhere you aren’t already a regular.”

Aziraphale wiggled thoughtfully as he snacked on a square of fudge. “Well, I am a bit peckish, but I think the fudge will do to tide me over. I must admit, I’m a bit exhausted.” 

“Fine by me. Could do with a lie-down, my back’s starting to twinge like anything.” That settled, they drove back to the cottage, the ride going rather quickly as Aziraphale chattered about how best to paint the nursery. Crowley made a few points here and there, mostly just to be ornery about the details and watch the angel fluster, but otherwise preoccupied himself with driving home. When they pulled in the sun was just dipping below the roof of the cottage, painting the lawn in a golden glow. 

Aziraphale was out of the car first, scurrying to the boot and unloading the paint. Crowley would have done the same except when he’d tried to help load them the first time Aziraphale had refused to let him so much as lift a paint can. ‘Bad for the baby’ he’d said, and though Crowley wanted to get his knickers in a twist about being fussed over, he also really didn’t fancy hauling cans of paint in with how achy his back had been for the past two or three hours. 

“I’ll get the tea?” he offered, breezing past Aziraphale to the front door. The angle shook his head and made a shooing motion, coupled with a frown.

“No, no, I’ll get it. You get right into bed, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Again Crowley wanted to be mad, but he thought about how heavy those cans might be, and decided that it’d be fine, just this once, to let Aziraphale be overprotective. With a shrug, the demon made his way inside and trudged up the stairs. HE smirked to himself, already planning how he’d seduce the angle into bed when he brought the tea. It might not even be that hard, though he hoped it took at least a little coaxing. 


	11. Chapter 11

The news of what happened to the bookshop came to them in the form of a very early morning phone call from the London authorities a few weeks after they started the nursery. It roused Crowley from a particularly satisfying sleep. Aziraphale had already been awake as he usually was early in the morning. It had only taken listening into the first ten seconds of the phone conversation for Crowley to be wide awake and scrambling to get dressed. 

“A break-in? At the book shop?” Aziraphale parroted into the receiver. “Last night?”

“Shit,” Crowley hissed, wrestling his legs through the nearest pair of trousers he found. “Tell ‘em we’ll be there soon, ok angel?” Bottoms in place he threw on a t-shirt and jacket then began to gather together Aziraphale’s things. The angel had hung up after promising to make his way to London, and was now getting to his feet himself. 

“A break-in…” Aziraphale said again, giving Crowley a grateful look as he took the clothing. “I’m not sure--shouldn’t my alarms have gone off…?”

“Didn’t know you had an alarm system,” Crowley remarked. They were both dressed and trundling down the stairs towards the kitchen within minutes. “Figured that’d be too high-tech.”

“Not a human one, dear. Wards, protections, that sort of thing. They should have gone off if anyone, human or otherwise, attempted to get into the shop,” Aziraphale explained as he began work on boiling the kettle. He got their two travel thermoses from the cupboard (Crowley’s own was a simple black, while Azirphales was tartan) and began to spoon in the appropriate amounts of sugar. 

Crowley was in charge of tossing together a quick breakfast for the road. Leftover cake and biscuits might not be appropriate for a human breakfast, but he thought the angel might need to sugar. Aziraphale loved to comfort eat, and Crowley didn’t really see the harm, given that they weren’t really capable of getting sick. After he’d gotten everything together he snapped it all into the boot of the Bently and they made their way out to join it. 

“D’you mind if I drive a little faster than usual angel?” Aziraphale nodded mutely and they took off, speeding down the backroads onto the nearest motorway that would take them towards London. He swerved expertly through cars, applying judicious demonic miracles when needed. In a parting from the norm, Aziraphale remained silent, though he did cling to the armrest and door at each turn. The Bently behaved itself as well, playing something quiet and classical the entire ride. 

The two-hour trip took them a little under one and a quarter. As much as they both wanted to go straight to the bookshop, the police officer on the phone had told them to visit the station first. It was just a formality, she said. Crowley parked haphazardly in the station parking lot and ushered them inside. When the officers tried to get them into a room for questioning, he discretely snapped his fingers to make them believe they’d already given a statement. Aziraphale wasn’t looking too good, and he was still reticent while wringing his hand, so Crowley figured it was well worth the miracle to speed things along. 

The officer who had called them came with them to the bookshop. Crowley followed behind the cruiser in the Bently and didn’t even make a fuss about going  _ exactly _ the speed limit. While sitting at a red light just before they got into Soho he glanced over and offered the angel an open hand. 

“Doing ok?” Aziraphale startled a little, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Crowley kept his hand out in waiting, just in case he wanted to take it. After a few more quiet moments Aziraphale did and gave him a strained smile.

“Just worried, dearest. My wards have never failed before,” the angel said, winding and unwinding their fingers. Crowley knew it was strange. Aziraphale was Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden and his wards were not bypassed easily. It would take a very powerful force, or someone who knew exactly what they were doing to break them.

“We’ll get there and see what happened. Probably something stupid like a-a rat or something eating through your sigils in the foundation.” Crowley was willing that to be the case very, very hard. Because the alternative was that someone from their previous sides was still trying to mess with them and that this was a warning of sorts.

“OK, yes, you’re right.” The light turned green and Crowley followed the cruiser through. They were only 5 minutes from the shop. “I hope the books--I hope everything's alright.”

When they pulled up, the initial damage was as clear as day. Two of the front windows were smashed, and the front door was vandalized with spray paint. There was caution tape around the front steps, barely hanging on to the bannister. Aziraphale let out a little “oh”, wounded and shocked. It made Crowley’s stomach drop, though that may have just been the baby protesting all the hubbub this morning. 

“It’s ok angel, we can fix it. We can fix it,” Crowley murmured, holding Aziraphale’s hand a little more firmly. “We’ll listen to what the police-human has to say, and then when no one’s looking we’ll make it good as new again.”

Aziraphale nodded, still staring out the window. He was the one to let go of Crowley’s hand, and step out of the Bently first. Crowley followed, scrambling awkwardly out of the door. His belly was starting to cause a few issues in that department, but not so many that he was too frustrated yet. The officer they came with was also out of her cruiser and standing by the doorway. She waved to them slightly while shuffling her notes. 

“All the damage seems to be on the outside,” she explained, skimming through the reports. “Except for some scuff marks to the floor where the rocks they threw through the windows bounced.” Crowley let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“That's… good,” Aziraphale said, glancing at Crowley. “Isn’t it?”

“Very good angel. We can get the windows replaced and the door repainted in no time.” He smiled in pseudo-politeness at the officer. “Did you need anything else from us or…?”

“No, no. Just wanted to make sure you made it here alright. I remember this shop from when I was a little girl, it’s such a shame really.” The officer game them her card, then got back in her car. Crowley watched her go and made sure to carefully tuck the card away. In his line of business, you never threw out a perfectly good possibly contact. It was a hard habit to break, not that he really wanted to. 

As soon as the police car cleared the corner, Crowley snapped his fingers and got rid of the outside vandalism. He even added a little mirage to it, where any human who looked at it would think it happened slowly over the course of a few days. He’d tackle the inside with more care when they got inside; Aziraphale never did like using miracles on his books unless completely necessary. 

“Come on angel, let's get inside,” he said, resting a hand gently on Aziraphale’s lower back and guiding him up the steps. The bookshop opened its door automatically as Aziraphale reached for the knob, welcoming its owner home. Crowley followed swiftly behind, immediately taking in the damage. Glass from the broken window he hadn’t miracles away when replacing them. A few deep scratches to the hardwood where the rocks had landed, one stack of books knocked over, and a medium-sized stone laying amongst the collection. Nothing unfixable. Still, his chest burned with rage and indignation over whoever had done this. 

“I-I have a broom, just in the closet over there. I’ll get it and sweep up this glass, if you could be so kind as to fix up the floor?” Aziraphale asked, not waiting for a reply before heading down the hall to retrieve the broom. Crowley didn’t object, partly because there was no reason, and partly because he knew Aziraphale had gathered himself enough to but on a brave face, which was a good sign. 

They worked quickly, and before long Azirpahale had moved on to fixing the stack of books. Crowley left him to it, knowing the angel had a specific filing system that even Crowley hadn’t quite gotten the hang of, and went to go grab lunch instead. Fortunately, the smell of fish hadn’t made him nauseous in weeks, so it was no trouble to pick up Aziraphale’s favourite sushi. When he got back the angel was just finishing up.

“Oh Crowley! I’d wondered where you’d gotten to!” he exclaimed, looking much perkier than when they’d first arrived. Organizing the books often did that, and Crowley was glad to see his love back in high spirits. 

“Just popped down the road for a bit of lunch. Got all your favourites, and said hi to the chief for you,” he explained, holding up the takeaway bags. Strictly speaking, Aziraphale’s favourite sushi place didn’t do take-out, but when Crowley had called and explained who the order was for, he hadn’t even needed to use a Temptation. 

“Thank you, dear boy. You’re so thoughtful. You didn’t walk did you?” Aziraphale left the neatly stacked pile and followed Crowley into the back room and to the little table they often used to eat at when then still lived here. “I was just getting a pick peckish.”

“Knew you would be. Everything all sorted then?” Crowley asked, setting out the containers and miracling a plate. Even if the smell wasn’t making him sick, he didn’t want to push his luck. He might try nibbling on some of the tempura, but anything more than that was tempting fate. 

“Yes, yes. It was really only that one bunch that were out of sorts, but I checked the ones around it, just in case. Nothing else seems to be amiss.” Aziraphale took sushi from the boxes onto his plate, procuring a set of white chopsticks from thin air. “I do wonder who would have done something like this. I didn’t think I had any enemies.”

“Could be some of mine. Not sure if any of them would have the guts to do something like this, but humans are surprising,” Crowley offered, watching Aziraphale stack his plate high greedily. He made no attempt to hide his stare when the angel ate these days, especially when they were alone. It was a small pleasure, one that reminded him of some of the best times he’d had with the angel over the whole lonely 6000 years. 

“It’s possible. I hadn’t realized --well, I shall just have to take another look at my wards and make sure they’re up to snuff, so nothing like this can happen again.” Aziraphale seemed much calmer than when they’d arrived, which in turn helped Crowley to settle down. Yes, this was probably a one-off, just like he’d said in the car. Everything was fine. He leaned back on the familiar sofa, resting his hands on the swell of his stomach. 

“I can add some of my own. Always meant to, but I thought you might have accused me of meddling. And then we moved…” The purchase of the cottage had only come weeks after they’d confessed to each other, in the whirlwind of new and exciting experiences. He’d forgotten his intention to do anything with the bookshop's protections as soon as he’d been caught up making their new home safe. 

“That would be marvellous dear. My protections may be strong, but yours are cunning.” They lapsed back into a short silence, Aziraphale enjoying the delicate sushi and Crowley enjoying Aziraphale. It was a familiar scene, one that had played out hundreds of times in the backroom. Crowley basked in it, taking comfort in the ritual. In his relaxed state, his mind began to wander, flitting down to the subtle rolling he could feel in his belly. 

“They’ve been calm since we got inside you know. Thank they can tell this is one of your spaces.” Aziraphale paused just as he was about to pop a piece of nigiri into his mouth. The round redness of his mouth curved into a smile. 

“I won’t pretend the shop isn’t a sort of nest. It would be impossible to argue that,” Aziraphale laughed, getting up from his armchair to settle down beside the demon and lay a hand on his belly as well. “They’re getting so big, do you really think it’s only going to be 9 months?”

“If it's like a human baby.” Crowley had half expected his corporation to work differently, but they were still all created in her image, even if he was a demon. 

“Have you--have you thought about names?” Aziraphale asked, his voice barely a whisper. This was one of those topics that was clearly on the edge of being too much for Crowley, and the demon appreciated Aziraphale’s tentative approach. He was happy, comfortable and in a familiar space. She felt safe, despite the vandalism that had taken place not 24 hours ago. 

“Not really, been calling them something in my head though. Just a silly nickname.” Over the past few weeks, as the baby had become more and more active and begun to kick Crowley in the ribs with increasing fervour he’d needed a name to call them when he became exasperated. 

“Do tell! That is, if you’re comfortable.” Crowley miracled up his own pair of chopsticks. He carefully gathered a delicate piece of Tamago to feed to the angel. The way Aziraphale’s face lit up at the sweet, delicate morsel was enchanting. 

“I’ve been calling them Sprout. S’silly, I know, but--” Aziraphale cut him off with a muffled sound and a quick flap of his hand. 

“No no,” he said, once he’d swallowed, “I haven’t thought of a permanent name either, nevermind a nickname. And Sprout is very… fitting I think.” 

Hearing the nickname out loud, nevermind in the angel’s voice, made Crowley’s cheeks heat up and his heart flutter. There was a mild fluttering in his belly as well, that he assumed came from the baby being disturbed by the poking and prodding at his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah I thought so too.” He grabbed himself a bit of tempura leak and nibbling on it. “Dunno about  _ real _ names, but we have time right?”

“Yes, of course. Do let me know when you have any ideas.” Aziraphale leaned forward over his lunch again, quickly demolishing the selection Crowley had picked up. “Do you think, dearest, that you could help me with the wards after lunch. Only if you aren’t already tired from going out, and driving us here.”

Crowley did a mental once over of himself and decided he was alright. His back ached a little, and his feet were a tad swollen, but nothing serious enough to stop him making the bookshop safe. They should probably do his Mayfair flat, while they were in London, though they’d need to extend their stay overnight. Crowley was sure that he couldn’t pull off two warding ceremonies in one day. 

“Sure angel. We can do my old place tomorrow maybe? Is the bed upstairs still fit to use?” he asked. Even though it was just after mid-day, he was beginning to feel a little sleepy. He’d always enjoyed napping, but it’d been sporadic, a few hours here, a week there. Now Crowley took almost daily naps, only two or three hours long at a time but extremely regular. Not to mention the vandalism had him feeling a little nostalgic and protective over the bookshop. It’d be nice to sleep in the first bed they shared as a couple again. 

Aziraphale looked off into the distance, like he was thinking hard about something, then snapped. “It should be now. Fancy a kip then?” 

“Mmhm, missed that stupid, fluffy bed of yours.” Truly a hedonist, Aziraphale’s bed was the softest, most extravagant thing Crowley had ever seen. Almost too much, which was why their bed at home was a little more reserved. But still, it was nice to enjoy a little bit of excessive luxury sometimes.

“Well then, let me just finish up here and then we can bang out those wards lickity-split so you can get to your nap. Thank you again dear, not just for lunch but for driving us here and handling the humans so well. You really do take such good care of me.”

“Pshaw, I do no such thing,” Crowley scoffed, nuzzling into the fluffy curls near Aziraphale’s ear. As the nausea had subsided, so did his sporadic distaste of the angel’s scent, much to both of the relief. 

“Whatever you say, dear. Don’t get too comfortable. I’m just going to finish this last roll, then we can start. So thoughtful of you, to get my favourite maki with tuna. My clever, attentive serpent.” Crowley made a noise of embarrassment and hid his face further in Aziraphale’s neck, pleased that he’d made his angel happy. 

Forbidding his eyes from closing, and his mind from drifting off, Crowley waited until Aziraphale was ready to get to work. The wards wouldn’t take too long--not with their combined experience--and then he could luxuriate in the bedroom for a good few hours. Maybe he’d be able to convince Aziraphale to bring his book to bed and join him. They’d gotten into the habit while Crowley had still been getting sick all the time and the angel had wanted to be close, but Crowley hoped they could keep doing it now. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Aziraphale at all, not if Crowley let him rest a hand on his belly as he slept, at least. 


	12. Chapter 12

As expected, the warding took less than an hour. Crowley’s nap, on the other hand, took at least four hours. The first hour was him nestled into Aziraphale’s side, floating in that lovely space between awake and sleep while the angel read to him. Eventually, he’d drifted off fully and spent a solid three hours dead to the world.

Upon waking Crowley had of course tried to get closer to Aziraphale’s warmth. It felt like waking up underneath his heat lamp, but a thousand times better because he was wrapped up in the angel’s arms and surrounded by blankets soft as clouds. The only thing ruining the perfect moment was an insistent, subtle ache in his knees and back that was just enough to make him squirm. 

“Hello love, are you awake?” Aziraphale asked. There was a rustling of pages and the sound of leather against wood. Then Aziraphale was pulling him closer with both arms. 

“Mmph,” Crowley grumped, twisting his hips in an effort to get rid of the ache. “--time isss it?”

Aziraphale hummed, looking over to his pocket watch on the bedside table before rejoining Crowley on the bed. “A little after six. I wasn’t sure if you intended to sleep straight through until tomorrow morning or not, you seemed completely out.”

“My back woke me up,” Crowley grumped, finally flipping to his belly and tilting his hips up. That made his lower back feel better but put more stress on his knees. “I don’t think my corporation likes what the kid’s doing to it very much.”

“Poor thing,” Aziraphale cooed, rubbing his hands into the muscles just above Crowley’s arse. “Why don’t you get in the tub and have a nice long soak?”

Crowley nodded sleepily, pushing back into the quick massage. “Coffee?”

“Just the one cup, you know you can't have too much.” Crowley moaned pitifully but didn’t disagree. “Go on then and get in the bath. There should be some of those salts you like so much in the cupboard.”

Crowley sent the angel a rare soft smile and a small pursing of his lips. Totally not a kiss. He did not send the angel air-kisses. Aziraphale nearly glowed, making a furtive hand motion like the not-kiss had landed right on his cheek. Crowley was extremely glad no one was around to see his raging blush. To make things easier he quickly made his escape towards the bathroom, muttering about sappy behaviour and absurd angels. 

In the bathroom he busied himself drawing the bath and getting the mix of Epsom salts, bubbles, and scented oils exactly right. Crowley had learned to secrets of drawing the perfect bath back in Rome, from one of the girls at a brothel he’d been ordered to create. A classy joint, less likely to attract bad types, and the girls were all paid well and there of their own free will. The one who’d taught him, her name unfortunately gone from his mind, had eventually left to start her own shop in town. It made him smile as he dashed in the final few ingredients; a hint of sandalwood and jasmine oil. 

While Crowley lowered himself into the steaming water he heard the shop phone ringing. Not too surprising, since Aziraphale still popped back here now and then and had finally installed an answering machine. Most of the messages were from confused former patrons or booksellers looking to give the angel a tip on a rare book. So he wasn’t too concerned when he heard the ringing stop and the muffled sound of Aziraphale answering. No, Crowley was more concerned with the simply  _ fantastic _ feeling of the steaming water (hotter than a human could survive) and how it was relaxing the pinching muscles in his back. With a relieved sigh, Crowley relaxed fully into the bath and tipped his head back, letting his mind float amongst the bubbles. 

* * *

“A.Z. Fell and Co., terribly sorry but we’re closed indefinitely.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he’d even answered the phone. Habit, most likely. Still he didn’t feel like dealing with any customers, or his bookseller contacts. After the day they’d had, he wanted to fix them both a warm drink then join Crowley in the bath. 

“Aziraphale?” A familiar voice crackled over the old phone line. The phone had been put in as soon as such things were available, by Crowley, and its performance was as would be expected by a more than 200-year-old piece of technology. 

“Anathema! So good to hear from you,” he said, his demeanour changing rapidly. “How are things with little Alfred and the girls?”

“Oh, good, good. He’s feeding well. Sleeps about as well as Lottie but what can you do?” Aziraphale hummed sympathetically, remembering the times when he and Crowley had watched Charlotte as an infant. “But that’s not what I’m calling about. You remember a while back, when you met Freddie? How I said I’d try some scrying, and looking into the future?”

It had been a hectic day, what with he and Crowley arguing that whole time. “I do recall something about that. But don’t worry yourself dear, it’s an awful lot of trouble.”

Anathema made a soft sound, like a laugh and a sigh. “No, it’s no trouble. I uh, I already did it actually. My mom was visiting and she helped me with the setup so things would be as clear as possible. Did you want to know what I saw?”

“Of course! If you’re even half as talented as your ancestor, I'm sure it will be most useful. Not that you aren’t--oh you know what I mean don’t you?” Aziraphale babbled, extremely excited to know anything about their baby.

“I get it. Is Crowley around? He might want to hear.” 

“Yes, but he just got in the bath. His back has been hurting, and we had a stressful day yesterday,” he explained. Anathema hummed in understanding. 

“I know. It wasn’t too clear but one of the first things I saw was you two at the book shop, which is why I called there. Anyway, most of it seemed pretty normal; I saw the colour you picked for the nursery, it’s nice. There was a general feeling of excitement, and Crowley looked less sick. You both seemed… stressed though. And there was just one moment I think I saw someone crying? But I couldn’t tell who, the connection was breaking up.”

Aziraphale frowned but forced himself to say something quickly as to not make to poor girl think she'd upset him. “Well, things have already been looking better for Crowley with the morning sickness, so I’m very glad it looks like we’ve seen the last of it. And isn’t the colour wonderful?” It was obvious he was avoiding the latter half of her vision.

“Aziraphale… have you and Crowley been alright?” she asked. Humans could be so direct sometimes, and often Aziraphale didn’t know what to do with it. “We haven’t heard much from you two since you dropped the girls off”

“Well, you know how things are. We had a good talk, but it’s been difficult sometimes. It’s a big change, not to mention some hooligans decided to vandalize the book shop--”

“I saw that!” Anathema shouted, forcing Aziraphale to hold the receiver away from his ear with a wince. “I saw broken glass, and red paint? I wasn’t sure… I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to tell you in time.”

Once she calmed down and the angel was able to once again hold the phone close, Aziraphale answered. “Don’t worry, we only found out about it this morning, so there probably wouldn’t have been enough time for you to warn us anyways. Besides, it was nothing we couldn’t handle, and it gave us the excuse to make a little trip to London to update our barriers.”

“Well, that’s good then, I guess.” In the background, Aziraphale could hear the happy laughter of Charlotte and Annabella, followed by a baby crying. “Oh shoot, they woke Fred up. I have to go but if I see anything else I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Of course, lovely to hear from you dear girl.” With a click and a dial tone, their conversation was over and Aziraphale was left standing in the bookshop proper. The scream of the kettle broke him out of his post-discussion thinking though, and he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be making drinks and joining Crowley in the tub.

“Bugger,” he mumbled, covering his ears and rushing into the kitchenette. As quickly as possible he took the kettle off the hob and set about making the drinks. The entire time he dwelled on what Anathema had been able to tell him about their future. Stress, crying? Those sounded ominous, though he was glad to hear she saw nothing immediately disastrous. 

“Annnnnngle!” Crowley called from upstairs. “I’m dying of dehydration up here!” 

“Coffee is a diuretic love!” Aziraphale called back, adding a full cup of water to the tea tray he was putting together. He carried it back through the bookshop, avoiding any and all books. Usually, he would have prepared things in the flat above the shop, but the kitchen had been mostly stripped bare when they moved. There had been many items, like his antique tea kettle, that Azirphale simply had to bring to the cottage. 

“Finally!” Crowley shouted from the bathtub. Aziraphale noted the pleasant scent and obscene amount of bubbles with a fond smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me for some bookseller.”

Aziraphale set the tray down on the counter and passed over Crowley’s coffee, then the water. “I could never forget about you dearest. Besides, that was Anathema calling, not one of my associates.” He wasn’t sure if he should tell Crowley everything right now, given the exhausting day. But, if Aziraphale had learned anything over the past few months, it was that if they were going to do this they had to be honest with each other.

“What did she want then?” Crowley asked, right on cue and just as Aziraphale had expected. The demon sat up and sipped his coffee, sneakily making space at the other end of the tub for Aziraphale if he so wished to join him. Which the angel did wish, most ardently. 

“Well you remember how she offered to try taking a peek at the future for us?” he asked as casually as possible. Crowley hummed in recognition. “Well, she just wanted to let us know that she saw a few things. Nothing major, though she did see something vague about the vandalism.”

Aziraphale focused on undressing, rather than worrying about Crowley getting upset. “She said your morning sickness is probably gone for good, and that there was a general feeling of excitement. A little bit of stress too, and maybe some…” he trailed off, finally naked and ready to get into the tub. He spared a glance toward Crowley and caught him looking both concerned, presumably, about the phone call, and interested in the angel’s naked form.

“Some what?” Crowley asked, eyes trained on Aziraphale as he sank into the water. The angel took a few seconds to get comfortable, arranging Crowley’s long, lanky legs so he had enough space. 

“She said we seemed, stressed. And that she saw someone--not necessarily one of us mind you because telling the future is tricky business as you know--”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted. “Gonna be honest you acting like this is stressing me out already. So if you could just get on with it?” 

“Yes, yes, sorry love. It really is nothing.” He took a deep settling breath. “Anathema said she saw someone crying.”

“Someone?”

“It would seem that even though she’s very persistent, Anathema doesn’t have Agnus’ keen eye for the future. That was all she said she could make out clearly.” Now that he’d said it Aziraphale felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t realized just how tense he’d gotten in the last few minutes. 

“OK. That’s OK. It could be anyone. Or even if it’s one of us it could be completely out of context,” Crowley said after a brief silence. “Jeeze I thought you were going to tell me she saw someone  _ die _ or something.”

“Crowley! Don’t joke!” Aziraphale cried, sloshing the bathwater at he smacked the demon lightly on the calf. Crowley cackled and wiggled down into the bubbles, holding his coffee high enough to avoid the suds. 

“Sorry angel, sorry! M’just glad it’s not all doom and gloom, you know?” It was unlike Crowley to be the one with a positive outlook, which convinced Aziraphale further that he was making mountains out of molehills. “And I’m not going to lie, I’m frankly  _ thrilled _ to be rid of that blasted morning sickness.”

Finally, Aziraphale felt like he could relax again. The bookshop flat’s tub had been one of his favourite things while living here, and he’d definitely missed its decadence. With the added benefits of hot tea and Crowley’s excellent company, things were quickly turning into a nearly perfect night. 

“Me too. You were such a sourpuss when you weren’t feeling well.”

“S-sour--? How dare you call the uh, the bearer of your child a sourpuss?!” Crowley sputtered, slipping a little in the water and getting bubbles up his nose. “Bastard.”

Aziraphale suppressed a smug grin. “Would you rather I tell you how radiant I think you look? Is that more appropriate?” Crowley, who was already sneezing bubbles out of his nose also began to turn beet red. “Or maybe I should offer to wash your hair and lavish you with attention?”

“Ngk.” Crowley blushed prettily, all the way down his neck and chest to the edge of the bathwater. “Can you do it without making a mess of my curls?”

Aziraphale scoffed, already reaching for the pre-conditioning treatment and hydrating shampoo Crowley preferred to use. “I’ve washed your hair before and done a fine job. Now turn your back to me so I can begin if you please.”

“Bossy angel,” Crowley muttered, his voice distinctly lacking in venom. “Be careful, think I moved too much during my nap and now there’s a huge tangle back there.”

“Of course dear. You let me know right away if I’m pulling too hard.” He squirted a healthy dollop of pre-conditioner and began massaging it into Crowley’s hair, ends first. Helpless to the gentle stroking of Aziraphale’s fingers through his hair Crowley sighed. The angel leaned forward so he could rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder and admire his husband’s relaxed form. Crowley leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of the tub, the slight swell of his belly just barely peeking out from the water and bubbles. He’d really started showing in the last week or two and Aziraphale could barely keep his hands to himself. 

As he let the conditioner sit his hands wandered and he let them. They explored the space at the base of Crowley’s skull, that little squishy indent where his skull met his spine. Then down to the shoulders--familiar territory--and back. Aziraphale wished he was in a position to massage his lover’s sore muscles more efficiently, but for now his caresses would have to do. 

From Crowley’s back he moved forward to his stomach. The roundness where there used to be only hard muscle caused a phantom-sensation, like joy zipping through his fingertips at being so close to their baby. Not to mention seeing Crowley so round and soft for the first time ever was still novel and a little exciting. The baby was quiet for now, no movement stirring under his fingertips, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. Just being close like this was enough.

“Ready to rinse?” he asked. Crowley, who had been drifting in that hazy space between dreaming and wakefulness, nodded. Aziraphale carefully tipped the demon’s head back to the faucet and ran cool water over the demon’s hair to wash the conditioner out. The shampoo came next, a delicious apple-scented mixture that Aziraphale was almost sure Crowley ordered custom from somewhere on the internet. That didn’t need to sit, so he quickly washed it out and moved on to the final conditioning.

“I can’t belive you do this every day,” Aziraphale remarked. Crowley chuckled--though it was really more of a giggle, which he would deny to his final breath--and wiggled around until he was laying on his side against Aziraphale’s chest, gazing up at him.

“Doesn’t take as long in the shower, you know. And not every day, you’ve seen me slummin it more than once and you still love me.” Aziraphale couldnt’ help but lean down and peck a kiss to his love’s nose.

“Darling I loved you before regular bathing was  _ a thing _ so to speak. You’ve always been radiant.” Crowley wiggled again, all blissed-out and content. Aziraphale felt much the same.

“Do you remember when perfume was  _ really _ in style? Couldn’t go fice minutes without sneezing.” They both laughed, followed by Azirpahale launching into a story about the time he’d had to revive a prominent noblewoman from a terribly unfortunate allergic reaction to his at-the-time newest fragrance. It was homey, and domestic, and they both  _ thoroughly _ enjoyed it until the bathwater began to cool. Not that they couldn’t keep the water hot if they both wanted, but if they did that they may never leave the tub again

“Time to get out then?” he asked once Crowley’s hair was combed through and rinsed one final time. Crowley wiggled about for a few more minutes, waggling his toes in the sudsy water. Aziraphale allowed him the small pleasure of making a bit of a wet mess of the bathroom floor for a while because it meant he got to watch that small, shit-disturbing grin on the demon's face. When five minutes were up, he leaned forward and pulled the plug himself. 

“Fine, fine.” He let Aziraphale help him up, then wrap him in a great big, fluffy towel. Aziraphale did the same for himself, then turned to Crowley, handing wiping aside a few hairs that had become stuck to his face. 

“More rest, or do you fancy some dinner?” It was getting late, the bookshop slowly falling dark in the dusky evening light. Crowley was soft and pliant in his hands, not moving in the slightest as the angel miracled them into their respective relaxing clothes: sweats and a t-shirt for Crowley, and his usual get up, topped off with his soft reading jacket. “We could order in, if you like.”

“Lets compromise and pick something up? Can’t spend all day cooped up.” Crowley’s aversion to remaining stationary for too long hadn’t settled after the drive in the Bently and they’d been slowly going out more and more. Restaurants were still off the table, because food was still hit or miss for the demon, but they’d been enjoying walks in the park, long drives, and the occasional show at the theatre. Besides, Crowley intended to spend all night in the angel’s bed anyway, and if he played his cards right it would be easy to get Aziraphale to join him. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Aziraphale woke up first. He’d nodded off sometime in the early morning, after finishing his book and being tempted by Crowley’s soft sleeping face. And even though he fell asleep second he woke up first. Crowley was still completely unconscious, his face mashed into the pillow and both hands tucked up under his chin. In the dim lighting and abundant, soft bedding Crowley looked extremely comfortable. Almost like he could keep sleeping for hours, which just wouldn’t do. As much as Aziraphale liked visiting the bookshop, and was relieved that everything was safe and sound, he did want to get back to the cottage and the nursery. The sooner Crowley woke up the sooner they could ward the Mayfair flat, then get back home. 

But Aziraphale knew if he just woke Crowley up with a shake or by calling his name he’d be cranky all day. It was always better to let the demon wake up on his own. Except... There was one way he could wake Crowley up that had an excellent chance of putting him in a better mood than if he got to sleep in. The angel grinned to himself, then slowly slid under the covers.

Since it was getting later in the year, Crowley had once again taken to wearing his warmer flannel pyjamas instead of slinky silk or nothing at all. Luckily Aziraphale was well-practised at stealthily undoing the buttons and wiggling the loose trousers down past the demon’s bum. Crowley’s cock was soft, which was good. It meant Aziraphale could take his time, riling Crowley up until he awoke, drowning in pleasure. 

His first stop was the demon’s nipples. They were already crinkling up now that they were exposed to the cooler air. Aziraphale tweaked each one between his thumb and forefinger a few times before lowering his head and sucking one into his mouth. Crowley twitched, puffing his chest out into the touch. He wasn’t making any noises yet, so Azirpahale decided he needed to escalate the situation by getting his teeth involved as well as bringing his thigh up between Crowley’s legs to grind against his member. That forced a tiny, mewling noise and another, larger twitch from his lover.

“Are you waking up dear?” Aziraphale asked, his lips brushing against Crowley’s ear. Another little sound as Crowley nuzzled further into Aziraphale’s chest and bucked his hips. “There you are, don’t you want to come for me?”

“'Ziraphale?” Crowley gasped. His cock was drooling now--no matter what form Crowley took he was almost always extremely wet and responsive--and making a mess of Aziraphale’s sleeping trousers. Which Aziraphale couldn’t complain about, as his own member made a damp-patch inside the trousers 

“Good morning lovely. Did you sleep well?” 

“Nnnngh…”

“I’m terribly sorry I had to wake you, but the sooner we get up the sooner we can ward your flat and get home. I am so looking forward to getting home and back to our little project.” He wasn’t sure if Crowley was listening, but that was alright. He seemed to be enjoying himself, at least, if the rapidly rising moans were anything to go by.

“A-angle--! G-going to c-come!” he whined, squirming back and forth against Aziraphale’s thigh. The movement made the angel moan as it reached his own cock. He was close too, but he needed Crowley to let go first.

“Yes, good boy. Come for me, let me see you--” Crowley’s orgasm seemed to hit him all at once, and he bowed into Azirpahale’s grasp, his entire body trying to get as close as possible. After watching the demon work through his pleasure, Aziraphale thrust hard against his still-trembling thigh then came as well, completely soiling his pyjamas. As soon as they both stopped trembling he miracled away the mess and straighten out Crowley’s clothing.

G’morning,” Crowley mumbled, finally opening his eyes to gaze drowsily up at Aziraphale. “That was… nice.”

“Oh-ho,” Aziraphale gasped dramatically, kissing the blooming indignant look on Crowley’s face. “Don’t get mad, dearest. I only wanted to wake you up in the most enjoyable way possible so we can get a wiggle on.”

“You’re only saying that to needle me,” Crowley groaned, nipping sharply at Aziraphale’s jaw. The angel retaliated by blowing a raspberry against Crowley’s cheek, which made him yelp and try to get away. “Angle!”

“You started it,” Aziraphale giggled. He soothed his demon with a chaste kiss. “How about I go make us tea and some toast. Or are you feeling ill again?”

Crowley settled and took a moment to assess himself. After a few seconds, his face lit up with a relieved smile. “No nausea, I feel… fine.”

“Splendid!” Aziraphale kissed him again, this time on the nose before pulling back and sitting up. “You’ll meet me in the kitchen in 10 minutes?”

“Of course angel. If I don’t fall back asleep.” Despite his teasing Aziraphale know Crowley would be downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, in far less than 10 minutes. Especially if he was feeling better. 

“Thank you, love. Don’t push yourself too hard please?” They parted with a final kiss, then proceeded to go about their morning routines. Aziraphale made the tea, and the toast, then sat down and read to the morning paper. He set the comics aside for Crowley. The demon lazed about in bed for a full 5 minutes before finally getting up, snapping himself into appropriate clothing, and sauntering into the kitchen. He picked at the toast and sipped the tea, both of them enjoying the nostalgia of breakfast at the book shop. 

After breakfast, Aziraphale took the time to get dressed the human way while Crowley browsed the funnies. When he was finished, they cleaned up together, then locked up, ensuring one final time that the newly extended wards were perfect. 

"Ready to go, angel?" Crowley asked as Aziraphale paused at the door to the Bently. The angel looked back at the bookshop once, his eyes lingering on the door where the damage had been, before turning to smile beatifically at him.

"Yes, I'm ready. Do try not to speed too much though, I don't think my nerves can take it today."

Driving up to Crowley’s old flat was stressful, the fear that they would find more vandalism, or something worse laying heavy on Aziraphale’s mind. But when they arrived everything was fine. Crowley’s own wards had either held up, or whatever had happened at the bookshop really had been caused by mischievous humans. They still spent an hour improving the wards as they had at the book shop, just in case. When they were finished, Aziraphale suggested they check on the plants, using the excuse of not having seen them in a long time. Really he wanted to see Crowley with them, knowing that most of the greenery here were the demon’s favourites.

“Hello lovelies,” Aziraphale whispered to the plants while Crowley went to fill up the mister. Every single pot was filled with a perfect specimen, and it was easy to see that Crowley doted on these plants far more than any of the others. In fact, as the demon sauntered back into the atrium, every single leaf and stem seemed to bend towards him, seeking his touch.

"You better not be spoiling them, angel," he growled, brandishing the mister like a weapon. "This lot will take any excuse to slack off."

Crowley didn't seem to notice the way the plants were leaning into him. One particularly brave ivy even swung one of its tendrils out to brush lightly against the demons side. Aziraphale realized the plants might be reacting to Crowley's… condition, with a start.

"Perish the thought dear. Though they do seem rather interested in you right now. Are you sure you haven't been spoiling them yourself?" Crowley glanced down to the ivy now trying to wrap a vibe around his waist and the bleeding heart stretching itself as far as it could go just to brush a few of its blooms against the back of his hand. The resulting blush and stammering practically forced Aziraphale to walk over to Crowley and kiss his cheek. 

“What--why are they--?” Crowley was hissing and stuttering up a storm. He went to bat the plants away, but Aziraphale grabbed his hands, pinning them to his chest gently and making him drop the mister.

“You aren’t going to like this, but I think they may know,” he said softly, running his thumbs over the demon’s knuckled soothingly. Crowley was red as a tomato and wiggling in Aziraphale’s grip. 

“Ssso that givess them the right to get their dirty frondss all over me?” It seemed like Crowley couldn’t decide between being furious, embarrassed, or moved, which Aziraphale found unreasonably adorable. One of the vines had trailed up Crowley’s side then reached over to curl near the angel’s ear. A gorgeous, purple bloom the likes of which Aziraphale had never seen blossomed from its end.

“They’re only curious dear. Let them get their… look? Plants don’t have eyes, but I assume it’s sort of the same thing…” He trailed off. Crowley wasn’t listening anyway; his eyes were trained on the plants flittering around them. Some of them kept to a respectful, but curious distance while others were brave enough to briefly touch him. After each plant that could reach had the chance to examine Crowley they withdrew, returning to their pots and quieting down. Only when the last one had retreated Aziraphale released him, but not before pressing an apologetic kiss to each wrist. 

“Angle…” Crowley grumbled. He had the air of someone trying very hard to seem upset, rather than embarrassed. “You can’t just let them get away with that shit! Next thing you know they’ll be thinking it’s alright to wilt a little when no one's looking!” 

“There there, I’m sure they still fear you enough to stay in line, isn’t that right dears?” The plants shuddered in horror (or mock horror, at least), which made the demon relax a little. Shooting them all one last look of disdain, Crowley picked up the plant mister and began dolling out criticism and vitriol, though none of it seemed to land properly. Aziraphale wandered over to a far corner, where some of Crowley’s oldest plants made their home. He liked to visit them when he could, it was almost like meeting with a group of Crowley’s most trusted friends.

“Hello there, you’re all looking hardy as usual,” he whispered, making sure his demon lover couldn’t hear him. “I think he appreciated the welcome, even if he didn’t show it. I’ll make sure to bring the baby here to visit, once they’ve arrived.”

An ancient hydrangea to his right curled it’s leaves slowly, something Aziraphale hoped meant it understood. He wasn’t as well versed in sentient-plant body language as Crowley was. To pass the time he fussed about with their pots, making sure they were adequately turned towards the sun until Crowley made it obvious his task was completed by tossing the mister aside. 

“Done filling their heads with your sentimental shite?” Crowley quipped, giving these plants the side-eye as well. “We could go for lunch, somewhere you’ve missed since we’ve been away?”

“You aren’t tired?” Aziraphale made sure his question wasn’t too prying, or too fussy. But he really was worried that the last few days may be taking a toll on Crowley’s energy levels. The demon had barely even put up a fightback when Aziraphale had held him still which was unusual. 

“I’m fine. Might actually be, uh, a bit peckish?” Crowley answered, eyes daring around everywhere but Aziraphale. “Can’t be sure, but, I think that’s it? Dunno what I’d want to eat though, so if you have any suggestions…”

“Oh yes, of course.” Aziraphale had an entire mental list of places he’d like to take Crowley for lunch, given the opportunity and the rare event the serpent was hungry. It happened maybe once a decade and getting to check a place of his list was truly exciting. “I have just the place dear, somewhere I think you’ll enjoy. It’s not too far from here if you’d like to walk?” 

“Think I could walk a few blocks, yeah.” Crowley took a step forward so he was within grabbing distance, which Aziraphale took advantage of by wrapping an arm around his hips and squeezing gently. “I want to take this one with us, though. S’not doing well, but I think maybe the cottage might have a better place for it.”

The small, only slightly withered, ivy trembled in its pot as Crowley held it out. This wouldn’t be the first time Crowley brought an ailing plant to the cottage, especially since Aziraphale expressed his discomfort with his original disposal techniques. It wasn’t in the worst shape Aziraphale had seen, but Crowley knew best when it came to his plants.

“That space by the kitchen sink?” He’d seen Crowley messing with the plants already on that window sill a few days ago, so he wasn’t surprised they were getting a newcomer. 

“Maybe. Needs somewhere with more shade. I’ll just…” he snapped and the plant disappeared, presumably back to the cottage. “There, now we can walk.”

The walk was really only ten minutes. Aziraphale wouldn’t have suggested they make the trek if it had been any longer because Crowley would have most likely still agreed, and then been uncomfortable all night. Something about the slight changes to his body from the baby was playing poorly with his already loose and bendy snake nature, and more often than not Aziraphale spent a good hour each night massaging aches and pains from his lover's spine.

When they got to the restaurant Crowley made a happy noise. Aziraphale had known exactly what Crowley would be craving because every time he was the least bit hungry he always wanted the same thing. 

“Is this… a burger place?” Crowley asked gleefully, ducking through the door Aziraphale held for him. The waitress waved at them from a few tables away and motioned for them to grab a seat. There were already menus on the table, and Crowley dove into his immediately, looking over the options with excitement. 

“Happy dearest?” Aziraphale asked, watching Crowley coyly from over top his own menu. “I remember how you were just a few years back when you ‘got peckish’, and this place was so close to your flat…”

“How have we never been here before?” Crowley wondered, eyeing the cheeseburger section with something like wonder. “I guess--I know I don’t eat that much, and this isn’t really your thing--”

Aziraphale raised a hand to cut him off before Crowley could send himself into a guilty tizzy. “They have some lovely chips here, and their milkshakes are probably the best in London. Don’t worry about me, love, go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

Crowley hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before the waitress came over and asked to take their order. Then it seemed like his self-control broke as he ordered at least enough food to feed a small human family and their dog. The waitress took it well though and didn’t even flinch when Aziraphale made his order, confirming that yes, the skinny gentleman in the dark sunglasses was about to eat himself to death during her shift. 

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley said, eyeing a neighbouring table’s order. “Kind of snuck up on me. Didn’t feel anything until we started with the wards, then boom!” He tossed a few of the salt and pepper packets he’d been fiddling with up in the air, scattering them around the table. “Feel like I could eat a horse.”

Aziraphale could see the waitress coming around the corner behind Crowley, his shake and fries on a platter, with one of Crowley’s meals beside it. “Their service is fast too, clean that up so she can set the plates down, there’s a lad.”

For once Aziraphale got the pleasure of watching Crowley eat. Normally if the serpent was going to partake in a meal he’d nibble on a bit of deli meat, or fresh fruit. Now he was gleefully digging into a greasy, fatty, messy burger while occasionally stopping to shove fries in his face. It was cute, watching Crowley get so excited and act so out of character. He’d already finished his first meal and looking around for the next course before Aziraphale was half-done with his shake.

“I guess this means the morning sickness is gone then?” He got a glare and a minor hiss for his comment. 

“Don’t even mention that angel. I don’t want to be revisiting this meal in a few hours. How’s your shake?” They chatted as usual over the meal, the only difference being that Crowley more often than not had his mouth full and could only gesture. Much to the horror of the waitress Crowley finished his meal easily, even ordering a milkshake for himself at the end. The cook in the back even poked his head out to get a look at the monster who could eat enough for three then order dessert.

“Maybe we should have taken the car,” Crowley groaned, patting his belly. It didn’t look much more distended than usual, especially with the baby bump, so he must have been using some sort of demonic wile. He still looked a little drowsy though, the golden slits of his eyes barely visible under his sunglasses even in the cheery fluorescent lighting of the diner. 

“Don’t think you can make it? We can stay another night at the bookshop if you want. Or at your flat if the drive back home is too much. I don’t mind.” Aziraphale paid the bill while Crowley hefted himself to his feet and stretched. 

“No, no. I can do it. Besides, I sent that ivy back and it needs to be repotted ASAP.” The walk back to the Bently was a little slower and the angel found he couldn’t keep his hands off of Crowley. As they walked he slipped his arm around him, pressing their sides together, only letting go to instead loop an arm around his waist to guide them the last few meters to the curb.

“If you say so. Was there anything else we needed to get while we’re in London?” Aziraphale gave the flat one last angelic once-over--the wards were as strong as they could possibly be--before turning to the Bently. “I guess we weren’t exactly thinking about shopping lists when we left yesterday.”

“No, was a little more concerned with the shop being broken into. And I can’t think of anything right now,” Crowley answered, sliding into the driver's seat and wiggling a bit until he was comfortable. “It's not like we can’t poof back here anytime, you know.”

“I know, I know. Let's go then. We can always stop at a coffee shop on the way, if we need a break.” He got into the car as well and settled in. "You're My Best Friend" began to play on the car radio, the classical CD that had been in there before finally submitting to the Bently’s strange magic. Which was fine really, he’d grown fond of Queen, and even fonder of the way Crowley would mouth along to the words as he drove.


	14. Chapter 14

It was Beelzebub’s turn to pick the meeting spot, so of course they were standing in a dark, damp back alley somewhere in the American Mid-West at three in the morning. Seemed a little out of the way to Gabriel, but the Prince of Hell had said something about an on-going project with the American political system that they couldn’t leave for a even a second, so here he was. 

“We couldn’t meet inside somewhere? he sneered, eyeing the way his designer shoes were getting ruined in the disgusting sludge coming from a dumpster a few feet away.

“Don’t want you and your lot closer to this project than necessary. You’d just fuck it all up,” Beelzebub answered, rolling their eyes at him. Gabriel huffed and straightened his collar, though it of course wasn’t at all out of place. 

“Well let’s make it quick then. Did your humans…?”

A dangerous growl that Gabriel was glad wasn’t directed at him. “No. Idiots got scared off by whatever the bastard had set up. They all ran off anyways.”

“Well mine got the job done. They sent a little… encouragement, to that ratty bookshop Aziraphale insists on keeping.” Gabriel was practically preening and he knew it. Being able to show up Beelzebub in any way always put him in a positive mood. Thwarting the enemy and all that.

“It’d be easier if we could be direct,” Beezle growled. The flies swarming around the dumpster began to make their way over and Gabriel had to swat a few away with the back of his hand.

“Get a hold of yourself, Beez. You were there, you know the almighty was clear that neither one of us could interfere directly!” Using humans as a loophole had been Michael’s idea and so far there hadn’t been any repercussions. But this had only been a test, and since things had gone well…

“We can escalate though, yes?” they buzzed, the flies zipping around excitedly and a grin breaking out on their face. “My contacts from before have been... reprimanded appropriately, and we’re ready to move on whenever you are.”

Gabriel’s face morphed into a tight smile of his own. He always had admired his demonic counterpart’s willingness to get a job done, no matter the cost. Beelzebub was shrewd and cutthroat and if they hadn’t been one of Satan’s damned, Gabriel might have hired them for a position Upstairs.

“Yes, we can move on to phase 2. Give it a few weeks, I’ll send you a memo, and a calendar invite for the pre-briefing. It’s Heaven’s turn to cater so…” Which was a good thing, since last time when it’d been Hell’s turn the lettuce on the tea sandwiches had been mouldy. Gabriel didn’t partake in the gross matter but it was the principle of the thing! “Are we still on for that event in Berlin next Saturday?”

“You’re the one who said it’d be in both our best interests if it went well, so yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t get in my way.” Beelzebub threw up a rather rude hand gesture then disappeared through a door in one of the buildings. Gabriel spent a few extra minutes in the ally, pondering whether contacting the demon to make sure their chosen apparel didn’t clash, or if that might get him in more trouble than it was worth.

-

The hunger didn’t really go away. Crowley woke up almost every morning with a strong desire to get to the breakfast table that persisted throughout lunch and supper. Aziraphale enjoyed it as an opportunity to exercise his cooking skills, even if it did require him to spend more of his day in the kitchen than was usual. Crowley repaid him for his kindness of course, he’d bring in fresh flowers (though with the changing seasons, he was going to have to switch to gourds), or later in the day bring him cocoa and biscuits while the angel was working on restoring a book. Sometimes, after a particularly good supper, Crowley might drop to his knees under the table and thank Aziraphale in a different way that the angel liked just as much as any of the others. 

The change of season brought on a change in their routines as well. Since it was getting colder, Crowley spent a lot more of his time indoors curled up in front of the fireplace watching reality TV, or in bed taking long indulgent naps. When they’d first moved in together Crowley had tried to stay awake and active through the colder months, scared Aziraphale would be upset with him for lounging about. But after 10 years they’d come to an understanding. As long as Crowley made an effort to spend at least a little bit of time-conscious with the angel every day (barring very long naps, which were usually discussed beforehand), Aziraphale was happy. And Aziraphale being happy made Crowley happy which in turn made the colder months of the year much more pleasant for the demon. 

On a blustery November afternoon, Crowley was making a significant effort to be awake as Aziraphale showed him pictures of cribs on his own laptop. He never should have shown the angel pinterest, or Amazon. 

“So what do you think? I thought something traditional would be nice, and of course money isn’t really an object, and maybe there’s someone in town who does carpentry? But what about safety?” Crowley browsed the collections of cribs, and rocking chairs, and various baby paraphilia, trying to keep himself from drifting off. He’s set an alarm to wake him up just after midday in case he didn’t wake up naturally. Of course, he’d snoozed it a few times before dragging himself out of their bedroom and into the sitting room for a cuppa.

“Think we’ve seen thousands of babies make it just fine, even without all these fancy cribs and chairs and baskets. You know we can make just about anything safe if we want to, with wards and a good talking-to.” He paused on a simple crib made of light pine with gently scalloped finishings. “I know I’ve seen signs for ‘rustic’ furniture around the village, m’sure you could find someone to make one like this.”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? It’s been a very long time since I had to make use of any woodworking skills, but I’m sure I could sketch something up for a professional to take a look at. Would you like to help, darling?” 

“Sure, go get us a pencil and paper then, and maybe a refill?” There’d be no more coffee since Aziraphale insisted he keep to under a cup a day, but maybe the angel would allow him some tea. Aziraphale gave him a beatific smile then rushed off to his stacks of stationery. Crowley secretly thought it was sweet how Aziraphale still wrote letters on his own custom paper, with fountain pens and a personalized wax seal. Over the millennia he’d gotten thousands of letters from the angel, and he kept each one in a lockbox that was now hidden in the back of their closet. Outwardly, Crowley rolled his eyes when Aziraphale returned, playing the part of out-upon husband as usual.

“Alright, you get a start on here then, while I make more tea. You’ve always been better at the arts than me anyway.” Debatable, but Crowley was too sleepy to really argue. He took a pen and some paper and began to doodle out crib-shaped creations. As the kettle whistled and Aziraphale hummed to himself his drawing moved towards the more specific, detailing little flower engravings for decoration along all the legs. When Aziraphale came back with the tea and some biscuits, Crowley had less of a sketch and more of a fully fleshed-out design.

“Oh Crowley! It’s gorgeous love,” Aziraphale exclaimed as he sat down to take a look. Crowley had barely been thinking about what he was drawing, instead letting his hands take over while his mind coasted in a half-dreaming state. “I love the flowers, and the wings on the corners. “You’re so creative.”

“Thanks angel,” Crowley murmured, looking at his own drawing like he was seeing it for the first time. He took a sip of tea from the cup Aziraphale passed him, relaxing back against his angel. “But I’m sure you can do it better, if you try.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s perfect. Maybe we could do a little more research, just to make sure it’s up to safety standards, just in case, but otherwise, I don’t think I’d change a thing.” Crowley would have argued if he wasn’t already half asleep again, his teacup leaning dangerously to the side. “Are you really so tired my dear? You should have said.”

“Wanted t’spend some time w’you,” he mumbled. The teacup was gone from his hands, presumably taken by Aziraphale, and a warm blanket draped around his shoulders. “Don’t want you t’be lonely.”

“My sweet demon,” Aziraphale cooed. “Thank you, you’re always thinking of me. But I think I’m going to read for a little while, if you’re like to take a nap. You can use my lap, if you’re like.” Crowley was already sliding down so he was horizontal, his head cushioned against Aziraphale thighs. The angel used one hand to turn the pages of the book resting on the arm of the sofa, the other slung low on Crowley’s hips. That hand wormed its way under Crowley’s sweater--soft cotton, with little devil horns on the hood--so he could touch the bare skin of his belly. 

“Love you,” Crowley hummed. Aziraphale wiggled a tiny bit, either in happiness or to get more comfortable, and sighed happily.

“I love you too, dear. Get some sleep.” And Crowley drifted off.

At first he was dreaming about the garden. Not the Garden, but his garden in the South Downs, at the cottage. It was summer, peak flowering period for some of his favourites and he was down on his knees at one of the smaller flower beds pulling weeds. The sun was exceedingly warm at the back of his neck but that was alright, he was nearly done. Then he could go inside and drink some of the lemonade Aziraphale had made earlier.

_The dream oozed forward at a leisurely pace and he enjoyed every second. The sun slowly sank towards the horizon and the wind got a little chilly; it must have been later in the summer than he thought. Even though the weather was turning, he still felt warm though, an unfamiliar heat spreading from his core and out to his limbs. He looked down, almost expecting to see something silly like a hot water bottle--dream logic of course; even when he knew he was dreaming Crowley’s imagination got away from him--but instead saw his own body. And the baby bump._

_“That you, Sprout?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely in the hazy dreamworld. “You’re very warm, taking after your Papa?”_

_A familiar wriggling, and something Crowley struggled to define. It almost reminded him of when we was still an angel, and he could sense love, a glowing joy from inside, spilling out through his cracks. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, the dream’s slow pace lulling him into a sense of security. Here in his garden there was just him, the baby, and what felt like pure joy._

_Crowley didn’t notice the dream shifting. The garden slowly getting darker and colder, the flowers wilting, shriveling, dying. Their cottage faded away, becoming an empty field, the sky a roiling grey. When Crowley opened his eyes and saw his surroundings, the oncoming storm whipping the dead grass and flowers all around, he knew. The warmth in his stomach pulled away and Crowley felt cold._

_Something was coming._

_Az_iraphale was startled from deep in his reread of _Frankenstein’s Monster_ by Crowley’s shuddering. Normally when the demon had a bad dream the first sign was a noise; a whimper or a shout that would alert Aziraphale to the situation so he could intervene. But even lacking the normal markers, the angel could tell something was wrong. Crowley was a very still sleeper, even if he did cling, and the erratic shaking and shivering he was doing right now certainly wasn’t normal.

“Crowley love, wake up. Shhh, it’s alright,” he said, loud enough to wake the other but softly enough to avoid startling him. He set his book aside and brought both hands into the equation, caressing and petting Crowley’s hair and shoulders. “Come on darling, time to wake up.”

“‘Zira? S’dark.” He didn’t sound upset, or panicked and Aziraphale let out a breath of relief. 

“You were only asleep for an hour, but the suns already set, given how late in the year it is,” Aziraphale explained, still petting Crowley’s hair. “Were you having a bad dream?”

Crowley rubbed his face against the angel’s belly, dispelling the sleep from his eyes. “Strange. I was in the garden, and then it was dark out. Could feel…” He stared down at his stomach. “I think I could feel them there.”

“Really?” Aziraphale meant to ask more about the dream, but was easily sidetracked by the news of the baby communicating. “In what way did you see them?”

“Not see, just felt them. They were warm. But then it got dark, and I felt like I was freezing, and the cottage was gone--” his voice got faster and faster, his breathing more shallow. To stop him flying off into a panic attack Aziraphale thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair again, not really tugging but still a firm presence. “And then I woke up. That's it, nothing exciting angel.”

Aziraphale hummed lowly, in the way he knew relaxed Crowley. “I’m a little jealous of you. For getting to feel them, not for having a nightmare.”

Crowley wiggled so that instead of just his head resting in Aziraphale lap, his entire upper body was laying across his legs. Then he grabbed the hand the angel didn’t have woven through his hair and pressed it to his stomach.

“S’the best I can do. Maybe if you concentrate you’ll feel it too?” Aziraphale tried his hardest, willing his entire celestial self to focus in on that one small area. Underneath his hands Crowley shuddered, but Aziraphale kept on searching until--

“Oh!” He could feel something, at least. It wasn’t really warm, like Crowley had said, but there was movement. It was reassuring to know they were there, and alive, and growing. “You’re amazing Crowley.”

“What, me?” Crowley laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself. The anxiety from the dream didn’t stand a chance against praise from Aziraphale. Still, Crowley looked like he was done sleeping, because he sat up and stretched languorously. “S’a bit late to go out, but we could order in?”

“If you want. You’ll have to take a look at your application and see what’s available.” Somehow, despite being a ways out into the countryside they always had plenty of options for takeout. And they were well known by all the delivery persons as excellent tippers, so their food usually arrived on time or earlier than expected. “I’m not craving anything in particular.”

“Good, ‘cause I am. I want fries, and maybe a ceasar salad. Oh and falafel.” Crowley was already tapping wildly at his phone, presumably making his order. “And maybe something sweet, for after…”

“Cravings dear?” Aziraphale teased, nudging Crowley with one elbow like he used to do years ago, when they would walk through St. James’ Park. That was before the end that didn’t happen, when even the smallest contact between them was taboo. Now they could touch whenever they wanted, and so Aziraphale didn’t stop at just one nudge, instead choosing to lean heavily against Crowley so he could look at the screen, “The poor delivery person is going to have an awful lot of trouble carrying all that.”

Crowley just rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through his options. “So you don’t want bubble tea? I was going to get you taro flavour but if you think it’s too much--” 

“Now now let's not be hasty love. I'm sure a large tip will make up for any trouble on the driver’s end.” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale tucked the sound away in his memory with all the other cute things Crowley did but would never admit to. 

“I thought so. You can never resist, can you?” Refusing to be needled, Aziraphale decided to fire back. Crowley was so cuddly and soft; so completely unworried now that the nightmare had faded that he couldn’t resist. He nuzzled right underneath the other’s demon-sigil where he knew Crowley was extra sensitive and revelled in the full-body shudder it produced. 

“Why should I? There’s no shame in liking nice things.” Aziraphale let the implication hang. Crowley could still be touchy about being called nice or good outside of the bedroom depending on his mood. This time however, Crowley sighed and shimmied away a bit so he could show Aziraphale the screen.

“Whatever you say angel. Does this look good?” The order list was expansive, and probably much more than either of them would be able to eat tonight. But that was alright, leftovers wouldn’t last long given Crowley’s new and voracious appetite. 

“Splendid love. I’ll go set the table?” It was really an excuse to get up and move. As much as Aziraphale loved cuddling and pampering his husband, he did tend to get restless. Now that Crowley was awake and relaxed he could get up and bustle about, working off all the energy that had built up while the demon napped. With the excitement of the baby coming Aziraphale had been finding it difficult to sit still and not rush about, preparing everything.

“Can’t we just eat here?” Crowley asked, sprawling into the warm space on the sofa left behind by the angel. Aziraphale smiled and passed his slothful demon the telly remote.

“No, I won’t have you drop tahini and falafel bits all over the carpet. You can eat at the table or not at all.” Crowley glared but there wasn’t really any real anger in it. In fact, it was quite cute, not that he’d ever say that out loud. Crowley would not tolerate being called cute, no matter how happy he was. 

“Fine, stuffy angel.” He turned the TV on and quickly navigated to NBC where Aziraphale knew they’d be playing Golden Girls at this hour. After one last fond look Aziraphale couldn’t stand still any longer, so he hurried off to get everything ready for their impromptu feast.


End file.
